


What Were We?

by Feeshies



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, Drug Use, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers to Enemies, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Roommates, Slow Burn, Underage Drug Use, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 67,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeshies/pseuds/Feeshies
Summary: Magnus and Charles: before the band, before the prophecies, before the sacrifices.
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Charles Foster Offdensen
Comments: 56
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Magnus decided that he wasn’t going to leave his dorm that day. He was planning on changing his major, so he didn’t think it mattered. He didn’t know  _ what _ he was changing his major to, all he knew was that art wasn’t his academic calling - probably. His black canvas bag of art supplies was shoved in a corner, doing nothing except collecting dust, taking up space, and occasionally serving as a tripping hazard.

Charles used to complain and ask Magnus to move the bag out of the way, but it wasn’t like their dorm provided them with a lot of space. The room was so narrow that Magnus couldn’t lie down across the floor at certain angles. Charles’ bulky personal computer took up so much space on the desk that Magnus often had to use a hardcover book as a writing surface. And between the two of them, their accumulated collections of movies, records, and books made their dorm look like they were preparing for the end of days - and they only stocked up on entertainment. At least Charles had decent music taste, aside from the glitzy glam metal crap.

Speaking of his roommate…

The doorknob jangled for a moment before Charles stepped inside. Even after a full day of back-to-back classes, he still looked put-together. Although, since Magnus could recall how much  _ more _ put-together he looked that morning, it was clear that this was Charles’ version of being disheveled. The few additional strands of brown hair falling over his forehead was the most obvious sign.

Charles moved to remove his coat, but stopped when he saw Magnus.

“You’re on my bed.”

Magnus shrugged and returned his gaze to the book propped open on his stomach.

“You weren’t using it.”

Charles remained composed, but the force he set his messenger bag down with was enough to clue Magnus in to his actual feelings.

“You  _ insisted _ that I let you have the top bunk. If you’re going to keep doing this, we should just switch.”

“I sleep better on the top bunk.” Magnus continued staring at his book, not really reading so much as passively letting his eyes scan over the same few sentences.

“Can you just-!” Charles cut himself off and sighed wearily. When he spoke again, his voice sounded defeated. “Listen. I had a long day because, unlike you, I attended my classes. Now I’m exhausted, I have a lot of studying to do, and I just want my bed back.”

Messing with Charles stopped being fun whenever he got direct like this, so Magnus took it as a sign to stop.

“All yours.” Magnus tucked the book under his arm and ducked his head as he climbed out of the bottom bunk. He leaned against the desk on the other side of the room, watching with amusement as Charles took an extra minute to adjust the blankets and pillow before lying down.

“Rough day?”

“Not rough - just busy.”

“No one told you to get a double major  _ and _ a minor.” Magnus frowned as he saw Charles grabbing one of his thick, pre-law textbooks from his bag. “Stop that.”

Charles’ hand actually stopped,

“Magnus, I have to study.”

“You just got here. Take a moment to  _ relax _ . Shit, at this rate, you’ll be lucky if you make it to 30.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “You’re more than your workload, man. You’re a person. You gotta remind yourself of that.”

Charles scoffed,

“You dropped out of your psych program. You’re no longer allowed to psychoanalyze me.”

“Hey.” Magnus held his hand up. “I didn’t  _ drop out _ okay? I transferred.”

“Oh?” Charles prompted, as his eyes darted over to the discarded bag of art supplies in the corner. “And, uh, how did that go?”

Magnus’ mouth tightened into a hard line.

“The art program at this institute is bullshit.”

“I know, as you’ve been so keen to tell me.” Charles rolled his eyes. “But either change your major, or go to class.”

“I am changing it.”

“To what?”

Magnus tensed up,

“I'm still shopping around.”

Charles groaned and rubbed his forehead.

“Mag, you’re giving me second-hand exhaustion. Just choose something. You like music, right? Major in music.”

“Oh no.” Magnus shuddered. “The only thing worse than spending all day with artists is spending all day with musicians.”

“You’re going to have to choose something eventually.”

“Yeah, but…” Magnus sighed and leaned against the ladder leading up to his bunk, resting his arms against the wooden rungs and staring down at Charles. “What if I’m wrong, you know? I mean, you’re investing a lot into this law thing. A lot of time, money, and-”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Charles held up a hand. “Because if you try to dissuade me from my path, I will actually kill you.”

Magnus laughed,

“You’re really dedicated to this, huh?”

“It’s been my plan since grade seven, so yes, I’d say I’m dedicated.”

“Well,” Magnus rested his chin against his folded arms. “Some of us don’t figure out a plan until much later.”

“And life is going to catch up with you eventually.” Charles grabbed his textbook, a notebook, and a couple pens and highlighters. “Or your tuition costs will.”

“I love these little chats we have.” Magnus muttered under his breath.

Charles flipped open his textbook and stared at Magnus for a moment.

“What?”

“You can play guitar if you want.” Charles wiggled his fingers. “You’re doing that thing with your hands.”

Magnus looked down and realized that he was rhythmically twitching his fingers against his thighs and he made a conscious effort to stop.

“It won’t distract you?”

Charles shrugged,

“Music doesn’t bother me. If there’s no vocals, I can still focus.”

Magnus couldn’t keep the eagerness out of his movements as he pulled his Gibson Les Paul out of its case. It felt like it had been ages since he last played. He wished he could display his guitar on the wall instead of hiding it away in the case he kept stashed under the bed, but the RA made a huge stink about him trying to drill a mount into the wall.

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and began absentmindedly running his hand along the frets, just allowing himself to play whatever notes came to mind. It wasn’t long until his brain went on autopilot as he immersed himself deeper into the music. Distantly, he could hear the gentle sound of Charles flipping through his books, but it wasn’t enough for him to break his concentration. If anything, it only made it easier for him to calm his nerves and just play.

When he finally looked up, he realized that Charles was staring at him.

“Thought you had to study.”

“I have been.” Charles held open his notebook, the pages hidden behind a dense jungle of pen scribblings and smeared highlights. “And you’re really good.”

“Oh.” Magnus tapped his fingers against the fretboard. “Thanks, man.”

“No, I’m serious.” Charles sat up on the bed. “Why won’t you major in music?”

Oh great, back to this. Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Guitar is just one part of my life. I don’t want to be defined by it.”

“Do you think I’m defined by pre-law?”

Magnus glanced at the open notebook, then back at Charles.

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

Charles frowned and snapped his notebook shut.

“You’re not an idiot, Magnus-”

“The compliments just keep coming.”

“ _ But _ , sometimes you need to work within the system.” He clawed his fingers through his hair. “I mean, you’re enrolled in a  _ university _ . You’re already in the system.”

“Why do you care so much? You already got your entire life planned out, right? Why don’t you get off my case and focus on that.”

When Charles didn’t bite back, Magnus felt a knot in his throat.

“Fine.” He picked up his books and supplies so he could resume studying with his back facing him. “Forget I said anything.”

Shit, he didn’t mean to hurt the little guy’s feelings.

“Hey, uh,” Magnus rubbed his forehead. “Charles?”

No response.

“Charles?” 

Still nothing.

Magnus frowned, then began strumming his guitar as loud as he could to the rhythm of him repeating Charles’ name.

“Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie.”

Charles looked over his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Neat.” He began turning back to his books.

“It’s just, I hate feeling inferior, okay?”

The words burst out of him before he could think them through. Perhaps he was only trying to hold Charles’ attention.

It worked, at least. Charles pulled his gaze away from his studies and looked back at Magnus.

“That so?”

“Yeah.” Shit, now he had to elaborate. “If I’m going to dedicate my life to something, I want to know that I’m going to be the best at it. But every field I’ve looked into, there is always someone better than me and then I realize that there’s no point in trying. I can’t let this feeling take guitar away from me.”

Charles sighed and rolled over onto his back.

“How do you think the world works, Magnus?”

“You’re telling me you don’t feel that way at all? Not even a little?”

“No. I ‘have my entire life planned out’, remember?”

The bitterness in his voice was not at all subtle. Magnus stared down at his guitar, but he could still feel Charles’ accusatory glare.

“You’re the one who said you knew you wanted to be a lawyer since you were in seventh grade.”

“I realize this, but,” Charles frowned and twisted a pen around in his fingers. “Forget about it.”

“No, come on, man. You can talk to me.” Magnus pulled a chair (their only chair) out from under their desk and sat down. “I have half a psychology degree, remember?”

Surprisingly, Charles cracked a small smile.

“You were in that program for barely a month. I don’t think that would count as ‘half’.”

“So are pre-law students all pedantic nitpickers, or is that a skill they teach you?”

“You learn to pick it up.” Charles closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m, uh, not doubting my path. I can’t afford to - literally. But, it’s like what you said…”

He trailed off and rubbed his eyes, causing his glasses to bounce against his fingers.

“I’d be lying, uh, if I didn’t admit to myself, at least a little bit, all things considered...”

Oh great. He was doing that run-on sentence thing he did when he wanted to avoid addressing something directly.

“...and, of course, I am trying to look at this with a bit of perspective, or something of that nature-”

“Charlie.” Magnus stopped him. “You’re spiraling.”

Charles looked up at him, as if being woken from a trance.

“Oh, right.” He took another shaky breath. “Like I said, I’m not doubting what I’m choosing to do with my life...but what if I’m wrong?”

The way his voice quaked at the end made it clear that this was the first time he ever voiced this thought - even to himself. The moment the words were spoken, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead.

“I built my entire life around this. So if it turns out I was wrong, then what else is there?”

Magnus reached out and patted Charles’ shoulder, who jolted like he was just struck by lightning.

“I wouldn’t hang out with you if you were just a pre-law student. There’s more to you than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

Charles scoffed,

“We’re roommates. You’re forced to hang out with me.”

“True, but considering that you’re a pre-law student who’s also majoring in business with, uh,” Magnus snapped his fingers as he tried to recall all of the programs Charles was enrolled in.

“Pre-law and business, with a minor in international relations.”

“Yeah, that.” Magnus propped his legs up on the bunkbed’s ladder. “Those degrees sound like they should belong to the most boring person in the universe.”

“Hey.”

“But you’re not boring, okay? Because I don’t like boring people. I also don’t like business people.” He paused. “No offense.”

Charles shrugged,

“After taking classes with a lot of them, I’m not much of a fan either.”

Magnus laughed and it was reassuring to see Charles smile again as well.

“You’re good. And don’t worry about being wrong. If it’s wrong, just change it until it’s right.”

“Let’s hope this doesn’t happen  _ after _ I drop several thousand dollars on law school tuition.”

“At least you’ll be getting the midlife crisis done early. Seems on-brand for you.”

Charles lightly kicked Magnus in the side.

“What?” Magnus laughed as he dodged another kick. “I’m calling you efficient. It’s a compliment.”

“I can’t believe we’ve tolerated each other for so long.”

“I know, right? You can be insufferable.”

Another kick, this one nearly knocking him off the ladder.

“Hey. If I get hurt on campus, they make you pay my tuition costs.”

“Even you have to know that’s not how it works.”

Magnus chuckled and leaned his head against the top bunk.

“At least you have a path. I still don’t know what to do.”

Charles shrugged,

“I have a suggestion.”

“Yeah, yeah. Start going to class.”

Charles blinked.

“I was going to say you could go back to playing guitar.” He wiggled his fingers again. “You’re doing it again.”

Indeed, Magnus was tapping his fingers against the bed’s wood panels. Goddammit, it did frustrate him how he was able to notice these things.

“Okay,” he hopped off the ladder. “I’ll shut up and play.”

“But you should start going to class.”


	2. Chapter 2

Magnus didn’t know what he was going to do with the rest of his life, but there was one thing he knew for certain: 

He was never going to share a room with anyone ever again.

Sunlight burst through the window as Charles threw the curtains open, causing Magnus to groan and bury himself deeper into his blankets.

“Get up,” Charles pounded his hand against the side of Magnus’ bunk.

“Fuck off,” Magnus grumbled into his pillow. “It’s Saturday.”

“Exactly, get up.”

Magnus curled into a ball and turned away from Charles. It was going to take forever for him to fall back asleep, especially when Charles began shaking the top bunk.

“Alright, alright, fine!” Magnus shot up in bed, wincing as his head smacked against the ceiling. When his eyes finally adjusted and the top of his head stopped throbbing, he realized that Charles was standing next to a rolling chalkboard, roughly the size of their wall.

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s a chalkboard.”

“We barely have enough space in here as is.”

“I know.” Charles took out a piece of chalk and drew two lines in a giant plus-shape in the center of the board, which Magnus soon realized was an x-y axis. “I rented it from one of the study halls, which is why we have to do this now before I have to return it.”

Magnus slumped against the wall, still groggy.

“Do  _ what, _ exactly?”

Charles reached into his pocket and unfolded a metal presentation pointer.

Magnus snorted,

“Did you rent that too?”

“No, this is mine.” He tapped the pointer against the chalkboard. “And I’m going to help you choose your major.”

Magnus groaned and flopped back onto his mattress.

“I thought you were going to drop that.”

“You had to know that I wouldn’t.” Charles turned and began scribbling something on the chalkboard. “The y axis represents how relevant a subject is to your interests, and the x axis represents which subject would work best for you long-term.” He tapped the pointer against the top right quadrant. “Best case scenario, we find something that fits here.”

“And worst case scenario, I waste my whole weekend filling out a chart with my roommate?”

Charles tilted his head questioningly, although he was obviously suppressing a smile,

“What? Aren’t you having fun?”

“Fine, just…” Magnus sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Just get this over with.”

Charles nodded and grabbed his notebook from his bag and flipped through it until he landed on a specific page.

“Accounting.”

“What?” Magnus frowned. “What makes you think I’d be interested in accounting?”

Charles shrugged and turned his notebook towards him, which showed multiple columns of incredibly dense-lists, all written in Charles’ scrawling handwriting.

“I’m just going in order.”

“Wait, are you seriously planning on going through every degree?”

“Inspiration can strike when you least expect.” Charles returned to his list. “So is that a ‘no’ on accounting?”

“Is there an option for ‘hell no’?”

Charles added “accounting” to the lower right quadrant.

“Moving on, then,” he adjusted his glasses on his nose. “What about ‘accounting, managerial?”

“I want to fuckin’ die.”

…

After what had to be the longest hour of Magnus’ life, Charles finally reached the last degree on the list. He dropped his notebook to the ground and stood back to stare at the chalkboard, utterly dumbfounded.

The entire top right quadrant was blank.

“I can’t believe it.” Charles muttered under his breath. “I thought we’d at least find  _ something _ .”

Magnus shrugged and prepared to go back to bed.

“What can I say? I’m an enigma.”

He flopped back down on the sheets and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He propped himself up and peered over the edge of the bunkbed to see Charles sitting on the floor, still staring at the chalkboard like it somehow contained the answers to all of life’s questions.

“Oh come on, man.” Magnus combed his fingers through his curls. “I appreciate you trying to help, but I don’t work that way. Sorry.”

“There has to be something…” he began frantically flipping through his notebook. “An independent study option? Maybe some kind of apprenticeship.”

“Charles.”

Charles looked up at him. Even from the height of the top bunk, Magnus could recognize the agitation in his eyes.

Okay, obviously there was more to this than Magnus’ lack of direction in life.

“Hey…” Magnus sighed and tapped his fingers against the bed railing. “Have you eaten today?”

Charles looked at him strangely.

“Why?”

Magnus shrugged.

“You need to return that chalkboard, right? Thought we might as well grab breakfast.”

Charles seemed to take a moment to consider it, then he nodded and collapsed his presentation pointer.

“Okay.”

…

Magnus had never seen the dining hall in the morning. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw the campus before 1pm. It was strange how quiet everything was compared to how he was used to experiencing it. The only people up and about were the faculty or groggy students who were unfortunate enough to get stuck with Saturday morning classes. Now that he thought about it, did  _ he  _ have any morning classes? This was probably something he should know.

He was still too tired to eat, so he watched from across the booth as Charles fiddled with his individual-sized box of cereal. Apparently he wasn’t particularly hungry either, considering that was the only item he had on front of him.

“Hey,” Magnus spoke up, causing Charles to still his hands for a brief moment. “You got a big exam coming up, or something?”

Charles paused and stared at him.

“Why?”

“You just seem really agitated. I mean, me being in-between degrees can’t bother you  _ that  _ much, right?”

Charles chewed his lip between his teeth, then returned to wrestling with his cereal.

“No exams. Just…” he sagged his shoulders. “We don’t, uh, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“You can talk to me if you want.” Magnus shrugged. “I’ll try not to judge.”

Charles hesitated, then closed his eyes and sighed.

“My sister called. She got into med school.”

“Oh.” Magnus patted his hands against the table. “Uh, my condolences?”

Charles buried his face in his hands.

“You don’t understand. She’s barely a year older than me. What hope do I have?”

“Hope for what, exactly?” It was hard for Magnus to empathize with...whatever Charles was experiencing, but he figured he could at least try.

“This is just how it works in my family.” Charles continued. “My siblings and I are  _ always _ compared to each other. And if you prove yourself to be exceptional, our parents are more forgiving of...other things.”

Oh. Well  _ that _ certainly piqued Magnus’ interest.

“Other things?” He prompted. “Like what?”

Charles squirmed in his seat.

“You know, uh, things that your family might not approve of otherwise.”

“Huh.” Magnus was still lost, until he suddenly caught on. “Wait, is this about you being gay?”

The box of cereal fell out of Charles’ hands.

“It’s fine, man. I mean, I’m bisexual, so you’re in good company.”

“No, I mean...how did you...I never…” 

Charles took a moment to look around the dining hall to make sure no one was listening. Fortunately, the only other people in the area were a small scattering of students who looked too tired or hungover to pay attention. When Charles spoke again, he lowered his head and kept his voice barely above a whisper.

“How did you know? Am I that obvious?”

Magnus waved his hand,

“Nah. Just as a fellow queer, you learn to pick up on this kind of thing. Also the way you talk about the lead singer of Snakes N’ Barrels gave it away.”

Charles’ entire face turned red, all the way up to his ears.

“He’s a dynamic frontman and a skilled multi-instrumentalist with an inspiring background-”

“Aww,” Magnus rested his chin against his hands and grinned. “Do I hear wedding bells?”

Charles’ face somehow managed to turn a deeper shade of red.

“Sorry, I won’t tease you about this if you don’t want me to.” He paused. “So I’m guessing your parents don't know?”

Charles seemed to retreat further into his collar.

“We don’t, uh, talk about that sort of thing. They’re my  _ parents _ , not my friends.” He stared down at his hands. “All of my siblings are quite accomplished already, so I really have to impress them to make up for...you know.”

“Yeah, I get ya.”

“And I know that next time they call, I’m going to have to deal with the ‘Charlotte is in med school already’ comments, and now  _ I’m _ expected to catch up with her.”

“Wait,” Magnus held up his hand. “You have a sister named  _ Charlotte _ ? Charles and Charlotte?”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, that’s just really cute.”

Charles apparently reached his limit of how red his face could turn.

“I’m just afraid that I lost my chance for them to accept me. There’s nothing of note for me to fall back on,” he hesitated before looking back up at Magnus. “You said you’re...you know…”

“You can say ‘bi’.”

“Right.” Charles nodded and continued fiddling with his hands. “How did your parents react?”

“They didn’t,” Magnus responded, his words bouncing against the light laugh in his voice. “Never told them. We don’t really keep in contact. Long story.”

Fortunately, Charles didn’t take that as an invitation to press further.

“Oh,” he faltered. “Sorry.”

“You’re good. It’s better this way.”

“Okay.” Charles frowned at his cereal box, which at this point was dented beyond belief under his clenched fingers. “But you’re fine with me being…”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s nice knowing we finally have something in common.”

Charles scoffed, but a smile was still forming on his face. He would have to stop denying how funny he found him eventually.

“So,” Magnus continued. “It seems like that’s been weighing on your mind.”

Charles shrugged.

“I don’t know how to even begin approaching something like this with them.”

“Do you think…” Magnus stopped. 

Talking about family with others was always a minefield. A selfish part of his brain wished this conflict could have arisen from  _ anything _ else. He’d have an easier time handling boring business school shit. But he knew what it was like to face this alone. 

“Do you think they’d react poorly?”

Charles frowned,

“Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t know if they even have opinions outside of work or academia.” He folded his arms against the table so he could rest his head against them. “Which is why I don’t know how to navigate this.”

To say it was weird seeing Charles like this would have been an understatement. He seemed like the son any parent would dream of having. Magnus knew that if he were more like Charles, maybe things would have shaken out differently with his own parents. But he also knew that none of that is what Charles needed to hear. So instead, he gently patted his forearm.

“You’ll find the time when you’re ready. And if it helps to distract you…” Magnus took a deep breath. He was going to regret this. “...you can keep helping me with school.”

Charles sat up immediately. His face was less red, but the area around his eyes was still a bit puffy.

“Do you have a day planner?”

“Nah, usually I just try to remember things.”

“You might as well throw your future into the garbage.” Charles reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a smaller notebook. “I have some brands I recommend. Maybe I’ll start you off with a monthly planner. Yeah, that feels like it would work best for you. Something pocket-sized, of course, and maybe-”

Charles stopped when he noticed Magnus was smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing?” Magnus laughed. “I just appreciate you, buddy.”

Charles’ short laugh was masked by his sharp exhale, but Magnus still picked up on it.

“Thank you.”

…

Sunday morning, Magnus woke up to a file smacking him in the chest.

“Ow,” he winced as he picked up the papers. When his eyes refused to adjust to the text, he turned to Charles who was standing perched on the bed’s ladder. “What is this?”

“Your new major.”

Magnus stared at the file until the words finally started to become intelligible.

“...English?” He grimaced as he narrowed his eyes at the page, as if that would help it make more sense. “Uh...thanks, I guess…”

“I looked into the program and I found a path that might work best for you.” Charles reached over to tap some areas on the pages that had been circled and highlighted. “All of the classes I marked are afternoon and evening slots. You will never have to take any morning classes. Also if you follow my suggested schedule, you won’t have Friday classes either. Upper level courses contain more opportunities for independent research, so you’ll be able to spend the semester writing about whatever you want without anyone telling you what to do. And, a lot of the professors and faculty in this degree have connections to the various grad school programs, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Magnus flipped through the pages, utterly dumbfounded. Sure enough, in addition to the highlighting and circling, Charles included notes about the various classes. Names of professors he recommended, ways to substitute certain requirements, resources for transferring his current accumulated credits. The last page even contained a little timeline where Charles mapped out Magnus’ hypothetical course schedule for the next three years. Magnus felt a shock rush up his spine when he realized that if he stuck with this plan, he could graduate on time.

“Oh,” he had trouble finding the words to say beyond that. “You really did all of this for me?”

Charles shrugged,

“It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you’re avoiding your real problems.”

Magnus chuckled,

“Well, you really put the time in.” He felt that sinking feeling in his chest, the same feeling he’d get whenever he had to think about committing to any of his past degrees. He certainly did not see himself as an English major, but he would hate to see Charles’ work go to waste. And besides, having Fridays off sounded pretty good.

“Sleep on it,” Charles said, no doubt sensing his hesitation. “It’s just an idea.”

“Well, as of now it’s the only idea I have.” He placed the file down on the bed beside him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And, uh, sorry for waking you. Again.”

“I’m getting used to it.”

Charles smiled, but that quickly faded into wide-eyed agitation when the phone on the wall began ringing.

“Shit!” Charles turned away from the bed, clawing his fingers through his hair.

Magnus maneuvered his way down the ladder.

“You think it’s your folks?”

“I don’t know, probably?” Charles took a deep breath, but he didn’t look any less frenzied. “I have to answer. I have to.”

Before Charles could reach for the phone, Magnus held out his hand.

“Charles, hand me the phone. I’ll give you an out.”

Charles froze,

“If you do something stupid-”

“I won’t. I promise.”

The ringing somehow seemed to be getting louder. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and slammed the heel of his palm against his forehead.

“Fine. But I swear, if you do anything-”

Magnus picked up the phone without waiting for him to finish.

“Hello?”

_ “Hello.”  _ A woman’s voice came through the other end.  _ “Is Charles there?” _

Magnus glanced over at Charles, who was leaning over Magnus’ shoulder so he could listen in to the conversation.

“Can I ask who’s calling?”

Charles winced.

_ “I believe you meant,  _ _ may _ _ , and this is his mother. Is Charles available?” _

“Sorry, he’s not here right now.  _ May _ I leave a message?”

_ “It’s 9 in the morning. Where is he?” _

Charles visibly tensed up and mouthed  _ oh no _ , but Magnus’ composure never faltered.

“He’s in the library. Do you want me to leave a message for when he gets back?”

There was silence on the other end. Charles had his hands over his mouth to muffle his breathing.

_ “Do you know when he’ll return?” _

“He spends a lot of time there, it’s hard to say.” Magnus paused to check in on Charles’ reactions before continuing. “He’s a hard worker. You must be proud.”

Charles pulled away and began shaking his head.

_ “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but-” _

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” He continued to monitor Charles as he spoke. “So would you like me to leave a message?”

Magnus could feel Charles’ fingers clench the sleeve of his jacket as he leaned in closer to the phone.

_ “Just tell him,” _ A sigh.  _ “Tell him that his sister, Charlotte, got into medical school.” _

“You got it,” Magnus mimed writing down the information, repeating the information under his breath for good measure. “Congratulations, by the way.”

_ “ _ _ With _ _ multiple scholarships.” _

“Of course, wouldn’t dream of leaving that out.”

_ “And _ ,” She paused.  _ “I’m glad Charles is working hard.” _

The grip on Magnus’ sleeve loosened and Charles stared at the phone in disbelief.

_ “And if he keeps this up, maybe he’ll get into a good law school.” _

Charles rolled his eyes and mouthed,  _ there it is _ .

Magnus chuckled,

“I’ll give him the message when he gets back.”

_ “Thank you. Goodbye.” _

“Goodbye, Mrs. Offdensen.”

The moment Magnus hung up the phone, Charles sank down to the ground, as if his bones just dissolved right there.

Magnus leaned against the wall and smiled.

“You want me to give you the message?”

Charles shook his head.

“I got it.” He picked at his sleeves. “Thank you.”

Magnus shrugged,

“I have a lot of experience covering for my friends in front of their parents. You’re good. I figured it’s only fair, after you helped me.”

Charles laughed, but the residual anxiety was still obvious in his voice.

“I appreciate it, but it’s not exactly a long-term solution.” He looked up at the phone. “I’m going to have to call her back eventually.”

“Yeah, but that’s a problem for a later day. And I’m happy to continue making up stories about you going to the library.”

Charles stood up and smiled,

“I actually need to drop by the library.” He glanced at the door. “You’re, uh, welcome to come with me.”

“I think I’m going to try to go back to sleep, considering that you woke me up early two days in a row.”

“Sorry, just trying to save you from academic failure. I’ll make it up to you.”

Magnus scoffed, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling,

“Whatever, man. You still owe me a weekend.”

“I know,” Charles looked over his shoulder as he put on his jacket and prepared to leave. “I said I’d make it up to you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, Magnus found himself waiting for his meeting with an academic advisor. Honestly, he was surprised she still answered his calls. If only his college offered some kind of stamp card reward system for changing majors, at least then he could get _something_ out of college. Like a free t-shirt, or a sandwich.

He slouched further in his chair, staring at the closed wooden door directly across from him. Close enough that he could easily kick it without leaving his chair. Once he realized this, it was all he wanted to do. 

However, he managed to resist the urge. He craned his neck to watch the clock on the wall. The wait was even worse. Here he was, wasting _his_ evening so some faculty member can tell him how much of a failure he was. What was the point? He was just going to change degrees again anyway. Or drop out, like people expected. Or get expelled, like even more people expected. He should just leave and save everyone the trouble.

He could feel the day planner in his coat pocket, the one Charles bought for him. The little guy even went through the trouble of writing down all of his appointments. Somehow he remembered them when Magnus didn’t. How could Charles have so much work, but still find the time to micromanage his life?

Magnus sighed. No, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t change his major again either. There had to be worse motivations behind choosing a major than “my roommate picked it out”. In fact, he knew that for certain, as he decided to major in art because it was one of the first degrees on the list. Having Charles plan his life felt like an improvement.

The door opened and his advisor stood in the doorframe. The same woman who was there for Magnus’ previous degree changes, and her face showed it. The moment she saw Magnus sitting in front of her, her lips twitched and her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

“Magnus.”

“Evening,” Magnus held up his required files. “I’m back.”

…

Given his upbringing, Magnus was used to sitting in front of a desk while he watched an authority figure evaluate his life. No, he wasn’t going to elaborate.

The frown never left his advisor’s face as she read through his file.

“I see you never bothered to show up for most of your classes.”

Magnus shrugged as he resisted the urge to poke at one of the desk toys she had, the kind with the balls that repeatedly clacked into each other. He learned a long time ago that she hated it when he played with it, which felt like it defeated the purpose.

“I didn’t miss all of them this time.”

“How many times do you think you can do this?”

“Until I find something that works.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“I’m going to be blunt. The resources here are for students who actually put in the effort and _care_. Magnus, do you think that college is the right choice for you?”

He felt his entire body tense up,

“What do you mean? You think I don’t care?”

She scoffed,

“If this institution provided majors in getting stoned and blowing your eardrums out to loud music, maybe there would be something here for you. But since there isn’t, perhaps you should consider a different path.”

Magnus’ nails dug into his chair.

_Leave. Just leave._ Was the thought that immediately popped into his mind. _You don’t owe her anything_ . _Throw that stupid-ass desk toy through the window and leave._

He still could feel the planner in his pocket. No, he had to stay. Even if it meant putting on a good face and dealing with this.

“Listen, uh, Mrs….” his eyes immediately darted to the nameplate on her desk, but she turned it over before he could read it.

“You’re in here just about every other month.” Her eyes were locked with his as she kept her hand firmly on top of the nameplate. “What’s my name?”

Shit, he really should know this. In a panic, he blurted out,

“What’s _my_ name?”

She stared at him like he was an idiot, which felt deserved in that moment.

“Mr. Hammersmith, I’ve had to read over your file so many times that I know you better than my immediate family.”

_Lucky them_ , he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue.

“And considering that I know you so well,” she continued. “I know you well enough that I would strongly suggest that you consider my offer.”

“Your offer? You mean giving up?”

“If your history is any indication, you’ve given up before you even came here.”

Magnus bit his lip, his nails were now digging into the skin on his palms.

“I’m changing my major. And this time, I’m sticking with it.”

“Yes, English. Interesting choice.” She raised an eyebrow. “You read a lot of books?”

Magnus wanted to bite back with a response, but unfortunately he couldn’t remember the last time he actually read a book that was assigned to him.

“I looked through the program.” He stared down at his feet. “I think it would work well for me.”

She sighed and turned his file over.

“At least try to make an effort this time.”

…

Magnus knew he should be used to this kind of treatment from authority figures, but he was still furious long after the meeting had ended. Each time he met with her, he always felt determined to stick with his new program out of spite, only for that fire to die down after a week of classes. It felt like he was cursed to constantly prove everyone right.

At least his dealer was still in the area.

When he returned to his dorm, he slammed the door shut so hard that Charles bonked his head against the top bunk from sitting up too fast.

“Ow,” he winced and rubbed his head. “You okay?”

“No, I’m pissed off!” Magnus kicked the chair out from under their desk, toppling it to the floor. “Everyone expects me to fail!”

Charles sat up in his bed, slower this time.

“I’m guessing the meeting didn’t go well?”

“Went as well as it could have,” Magnus shrugged. “I’m an English major now.”

“Hey, congratulations-”

“Not that it matters. If I fail again, everyone’s going to be like _‘well, what did you expect?’_ but if I succeed, the response is going to be _‘well, that’s surprising, he actually turned his life around_ ’ _._ No matter what I do, I can’t win!”

“Wait, who’s saying that?”

“I don’t know. The school? Society? Reagan? Just let me vent, man.”

Magnus sighed and turned the chair back up so he could sit. He propped his feet up on the wooden rungs and looked over at Charles.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your studies.”

Charles shrugged and closed his book,

“Just review, don’t worry about it.”

Magnus reached into his pocket, past the planner until he felt the plastic bag stashed in there.

“Hey,” he stretched one of his legs out to nudge Charles’ foot. “You wanna get high?”

Charles looked at Magnus as if he asked him, _“Hey, you wanna go to a remote island and hunt other humans for sport?”_

“I, uh…” Charles glanced back and forth between Magnus and his pre-law textbooks, as if he were an actor in the most heavy-handed War On Drugs PSA ever. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I just need to unwind, and you look like you need to relax too.” He pulled the baggie out of his pocket. “It’s just weed.”

“Where did you get that?!”

“I bought it from a dealer, thought you were a business major. Goods and services.”

Charles threaded his fingers through his hair,

“You’re not going to smoke in here, right?” He asked as he glanced over at the vent.

“Nah, I’m not that careless.”

“Then where were you planning on going?”

“I was just going to break into the dean’s office.”

The scandalized look on Charles’ face was priceless. When Magnus finally got over his laughter, he shook his head.

“The old art building’s roof is pretty secluded. I usually just go up there.”

“That’s...better.”

Magnus stuffed the bag back into his pocket.

“You can come with me, if you want. You don’t have to smoke, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Charles frowned, the wheels obviously turning in his head.

“Okay.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.” He stood up, turning his law book face-down on the bed. “I just need an excuse to get out of the dorm.”

“You’re not planning to narc on me, right?” Magnus paused. “ _Narc_ means to-”

“I know what it means.” he snapped. “And no, I’m not.”

“Sweet.” Magnus stuck his thumbs into his pockets. “Guess I’ll lead the way.”

…

The sun was already starting to set by the time they left the residential hall, but Magnus was so familiar with the path they were taking that he was confident in his ability to find his way in the dark. Charles had his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and he kept glancing over his shoulder as if they were being watched.

“Relax,” Magnus said with a laugh.

“I’m just being careful.”

Magnus led him behind the old art building. The back wall had the remains of some kind of mural painted onto the weather-worn bricks, but it had long since faded to the point where it was impossible to tell what it once was. Magnus would often think about bringing his art supplies and adding his own doodles, but he always forgot.

Charles cupped a hand over his eyes and stared up at the roof.

“How are we supposed to get up there?”

Magnus shrugged his jacket off and flung it upwards, using it to pull down the fire escape ladder.

“Isn’t that for emergencies?”

“What? We’re not ‘using up’ the ladder,” Now that he could reach, Magnus pulled down it the rest of the way so he could start climbing.

Charles remained on the ground as he waited for Magnus to get up first. Even though he was fairly certain that the ladder could have supported both of their weights, he appreciated the caution nonetheless. When he reached the top of the ladder, all he had to do was reach up and push himself onto the roof.

He leaned over the edge to call down to Charles,

“You’re good to come up. I’ll spot you.”

“That won’t do me any good if I fall, but thanks.”

Charles began to climb the ladder, wincing whenever the metal clanked under his movements.

“You’re fine, it’s not going to break.”

“I’m more worried about someone catching us.”

“No one comes back here, don’t worry.”

“So if I fall, I’ll only have you to rely on?”

“Yes, you’re welcome.”

Charles reached the top of the ladder and Magnus realized he didn’t think this plan all the way through. With his height, it was easy for Magnus to jump onto the roof. It didn’t look like it would be as easy for Charles.

“Here.” Magnus extended his hand down to Charles. “Grab onto my arm.”

Charles hesitated, then unwound one of his hands from the ladder to clasp Magnus’ forearm.

“Okay, you see that brick that’s kinda sticking out of the wall? Above the ladder”

Charles glanced down and nodded.

“You’re gonna want to step up onto that. I got you, don’t worry.”

Charles nodded again and followed his instructions. With the added boost, it was easier for Magnus to pull him up. Unfortunately, Magnus ended up overshooting how much strength he had to use, and ended up stumbling backwards with Charles collapsing on top of him. His tailbone hurt from hitting the cement, but at least he didn’t accidentally drop his roommate to his death, so there was that.

“Sorry,” Charles crawled off of him and sat down next to him.

“You’re good,” Magnus sat up. “The way down is easier.”

“That’s reassuring.” Charles paused and stared down at his hands. “Magnus?”

“What’s up?”

“I think I, uh, want to try it.” He began fiddling with his sleeves. “Weed, I mean.”

Magnus knew that Charles was pushing himself out of his comfort zone, so he shouldn’t laugh, but it was incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure.

“You sure, buddy? Don’t feel pressured to do it if you won’t want to.”

Charles shook his head,

“You said it helps you relax. I think I need that right now.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m already up here.”

Well, this certainly wasn’t how Magnus expected the evening to go. Not that this was a bad thing.

“Okay, only if you’re sure.”

Magnus pulled the bag of weed and rolling papers out of his pocket and got to work. He broke down the strain before they left, and now Charles knew why he kept a spice grinder in their dorm. He was well-aware that Charles was observing him with the same intensity he did when he watched him play guitar. Shit, he could tell how nervous he was.

“What are you worried about?” Magnus asked as he began folding up the filter. It was a pain, but this was Charles’ first time, so he figured he should be nice.

“I just don’t know what to expect. What if I do something stupid?”

“Like use a fire escape to climb onto the roof of one of your school’s buildings?”

Charles paled and Magnus laughed.

“You’ll be okay, I promise.”

He continued preparing the joint on autopilot, only stopping after he licked the edge of the paper without thinking.

“Sorry. I’ll, uh, keep this one and get you your own.”

Charles shook his head.

“It’s fine. I don’t think I should have a whole one.”

Even though he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see Charles attempt to roll a joint for the first time, he shrugged and reached for his lighter.

“Alright.” He held the joint out to him. “You wanna go first? So I can keep an eye on you?”

Charles hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay, that sounds like a good idea.”

Magnus passed him the joint and watched with mild amusement as Charles fumbled with the lighter.

“You want some help?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Charles grumbled before he finally got the lighter to work. He lit the joint and brought it to his lips.

“You’re gonna want to inhale the air too so the smoke can reach your lungs. That’s a mistake I made the first time.”

Charles doubled over and began coughing furiously, smoke seeping out of his mouth and nose.

“You okay?” He placed a hand on his trembling back.

After a few more violent coughs, he managed to wheeze out,

“I’m fine.”

“Do you ever smoke? Like, normal cigarettes.”

Charles shook his head and coughed again. He took some heavy gulps of air and rubbed his watery eyes.

“That went poorly.”

Magnus laughed,

“It’s hard for everyone the first time. Don’t worry.”

Charles glanced down at the joint which was still between his fingers.

“Should I try again?”

“Only if you want to.” Magnus shrugged. “I can shotgun it for you, if you’d like.”

Charles seemed to consider it, then he shook his head.

“I think I can do it.”

“Alright, buddy.”

Magnus reclined back on the roof as he watched Charles attempt to take a second hit. It went smoother this time, as he was doing a better job at suppressing his coughs. When the smoke finally poured past his lips, he handed the joint back to Magnus.

“How do you feel?”

Charles shrugged.

“Okay, I guess. My throat burns. But I don’t feel different. When does it start working?” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I’m still stressed, I think I’m doing this wrong. What if I’m too boring to get high?”

“Give it time, relax.” He placed his free hand on Charles’ back.

Charles remained sitting with his head down as Magnus continued rubbing circles into his back, taking extra care to keep an eye on his reactions. He desperately wanted to take a hit too, but he figured he should wait until he knew for certain that Charles was okay.

Then, he slowly lifted his head and leaned back on the cement, curling onto his side so he was facing Magnus.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just needed to lay down.” He frowned. “Lie... _lie_ down, I think. Because _I’m_ the one lying. You would _lay_ something else down. I don’t know. Am I right? That feels right.”

Magnus knew Charles tended to ramble like this even when he wasn’t under the influence so he couldn’t say for certain if it was starting to take effect. But either way, it was amusing to watch.

“...I suppose you could lay _yourself_ down, then it would work.” Charles nodded, satisfied with his conclusion.

“Good job, man. Proud of ya.” Magnus chuckled. “You mind if I take a hit now, or do you want me to stay sober so I can help guide you, or whatever?”

Charles laughed, for a slightly longer time than he usually did,

“Like a doula?”

“No, more like the guy who makes sure you don’t start freaking out.”

Charles folded his hands over his chest and took a deep breath.

“I feel…” He trailed off. “I feel fine. Just tired…”. He moved his arms up and down. “Kinda floppy.”

“In a good way?”

“I think so? I don’t feel bad, at least.” He lazily gestured at the joint in Magnus’ hand. “You can go ahead. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Just keep me updated with how you’re feeling.”

It wasn’t long until the two of them were laying...or rather, _lying_ next to each other on the roof. Charles seemed to have gotten used to ingesting the smoke as whenever Magnus passed the joint back to him.

“You didn’t tell me how your meeting went.” Charles asked at one point.

Oh right, the reason he wanted to get high in the first place. 

He let the smoke escape his mouth with a shaky sigh.

“It went exactly as I expected. Which is to say, she told me I’m stupid.”

“Did she actually say that?” Both his face and voice were horrified.

“She might as well have. _‘Maybe college isn’t for you’_ , how the fuck does that help me now?!”

“I’m sorry,” Charles rolled onto his side so he could awkwardly pat Magnus’ shoulder. “She shouldn’t talk to you that way.”

“I don’t know, man.” Magnus sighed again. “Maybe I really am stupid. So stupid, in fact, that I’ll be the last one to catch on.”

“No.” Charles placed his entire hand over Magnus’ face, which was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. “You’re not stupid. You’re really smart, just... school may not be able to tell.”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Magnus peeled his hand off his face. “Because if you’re about to tell me that I have ‘street smarts’, I’m taking my joint and leaving.”

“I wasn’t, uh, I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Good, because what does ‘street smart’ even mean? It sounds like, ‘oh you’re really stupid, but at least you know how to conceal a knife’.” Magnus looked over at Charles. “I do know how to conceal a knife, by the way.”

“I know, that worries me.” He shook his head. “And you’re really smart, I know this about you. But the university can’t tell, because it’s all bullshit!”

“Hmm,” Magnus closed his eyes. “Can I get you to repeat that on tape later?”

“I’m serious!” Charles swatted his shoulder, although his movements were still sluggish. “Do you think I keep three notebooks per class because I’m smart? No, it’s because I learned that’s what I have to do to survive in this institution.”

“But you _are_ really smart, so...shut up.” He furrowed his brow. “Wait, do you actually have 3 notebooks for all of your classes?”

Charles nodded and began counting off on his fingers.

“I use one for taking notes in-class, then I transfer those notes to the second one so it’s more organized, and then I use the third to condense it all into study guides.”

“Shit,” Magnus rubbed his forehead. “That just proves my point. I never would think to do that.”

“And you think that makes me smarter?”

“Dude, stop.” He turned his face away from him. “All I know is that they don’t make you repeat your senior year because you were ‘secretly a misunderstood genius’.”

Charles was silent while Magnus took another hit. Then, he felt a hand return to his shoulder, gently resting against the coarse fabric of his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” There was a barely-detectable shakiness to his voice. “You came up here to relax, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

Magnus sighed and passed the joint back to Charles.

“You’re fine. I just wish…” He craned his neck up so he could stare at the night sky, disappointingly starless compared to the skies back home. “I just wish I was given more time to figure out what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at guitar.”

“Good enough to base my entire life around it?”

Charles fell silent again. Magnus realized that he was practically clinging to his arm by that point.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “This is your first time getting high, and I’m bringing everything down with my bullshit.”

“You’re not bringing it down.” Charles mumbled, half into Magnus’ sleeve. “I still feel relaxed.”

Magnus cracked a small smile,

“That has to feel good, right?”

“Actually, I’m kinda worried. I’ve never felt relaxed for this long.”

Magnus allowed himself to scoot closer to Charles. Weed always made him clingy, he didn’t know why. Or maybe it was just cold. Either way, he wanted to get closer to him. At least Charles didn’t seem to complain.

They continued lying there for a moment, until Charles' hand moved from Magnus’ shoulder to his hair sprawled out on the cement. Magnus chuckled as he watched him start playing with the strands with a laser-like focus.

“You good?”

“I like your hair,” Charles muttered as he began testing the springiness of his curls.

“You’d probably like it a lot less if you knew how greasy it is right now.”

Still, he didn’t object. The feeling of his fingers working through his hair did feel kind of nice.

“Would you ever grow your hair out longer?”

Magnus shrugged. Even at barely above his shoulders, he was already used to getting judgmental looks from people.

“I might. How long are we talking?”

“The drummer from Snakes N’ Barrels has curly hair, kinda like yours-”

“Please don't try to turn me into one of your glam metal guys.”

Charles laughed. The longer the night went on, the less it sounded like he was trying to hold himself back. Magnus always knew that Charles was more than his studies, but at that moment it felt like he was seeing him as a regular guy his age. A regular guy who could also give a decent head massage, apparently.

“Mag?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really thirsty.” A pause. “I have been this whole time.”

“Oh shit, I should have accounted for that.” He groaned and pushed himself up, well aware that his hair was sticking up around his head due to Charles’ meddling. “You wanna head back to the dorm?”

Charles nodded and, with Magnus’ assistance, rose to his feet.

Even after helping him down the ladder, Magnus had to continue supporting Charles on their way back to the dorm. By the time they reached the residence hall, Magnus was practically half-carrying Charles with his arm slung over his shoulders.

Magnus made sure Charles was situated in bed before stepping out of the room to head to one of the vending machines in the hallway. He returned with three water bottles which he placed on the floor next to Charles’ bed.

“Here. You’ll need all of them.”

Charles mumbled something into his pillow, which Magnus decided to interpret as a “thank you”.

“Sure thing.” Magnus leaned against the top bunk. “How are we feeling?”

“I’m good,” Charles responded, clearer this time. “Just tired.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get your rest.”

“I liked this. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Magnus stretched his arms over his head. “I imagine you don’t want to make a habit of this, but would you want to do this again tomorrow night?”

Charles frowned.

“Tomorrow? I can’t. I have a tournament.”

“A tournament?” Magnus raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“I’m on the fencing team.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, since the first semester?”

“Hold up,” Magnus rubbed his temples. “So you fight with swords in your free time...and I’m _just_ hearing about this? That’s something I would introduce myself with!”

“I don’t _fight_ with swords.” Charles moved his arm around, probably in a way that was meant to demonstrate fencing techniques, but in his inebriated state it looked like he was failing to hail a taxi.

“I’d still open with that over being a business major.” Magnus chuckled. “So, what, do you take your glasses off under the mask?”

Charles shook his head,

“No, I have a…” he moved his hands around as he tried to think of the word before giving up. “A thing...you know. It goes around my head and holds my glasses in place.”

“Hm, hot.”

Charles laughed, although it was obvious he was gradually slipping closer to falling asleep.

“You’re welcome to come. 7:30. In the gym…I forgot which one.”

“You sure you want someone like me there?”

“Yeah, why not?” Charles closed his eyes and let his head flop back on the pillow. “I’m so tired.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone now. Drink your water.”

Magnus climbed into his own bunk a few minutes after he turned the lights off. He laced his fingers together and rested them against his chest and he realized he wasn’t tired at all. Just a few seconds later, he could tell that Charles had fallen asleep in the bunk below him. Magnus smiled and shook his head.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’d given him the weakest strain he’d ever bought.


	4. Chapter 4

Magnus’ nails dug into his scalp as he stared down at his book. Since it was so late in the semester, he had to wait until the next term to officially start his English degree, but he figured it wasn’t too early to take a crack at the reading list.

Charles was impressed when he told him he was heading to the library for that reason. Magnus didn’t tell him that his motivations were less about genuine academic pursuit, and more about rubbing it in all of his classmates’ faces that he read the entire reading list ahead of time.

So far, he only finished one.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the book, in fact he quite liked it. Actually, he enjoyed reading in general. But knowing that this was for academic purposes and he was going to be judged on his ability to read “correctly” only put more pressure on him. He tried to mimic Charles’ technique of writing notes in the margins or using different-colored highlighters to mark specific sections, but it turns out that university libraries don’t like it when people do that. He learned that the hard way.

He even went out and bought a new notebook just so he could jot down his thoughts while he read, but that ended up going to waste. Two hundred or so pages later and the only piece of writing in the notebook was when he copied down the passage,  _ “Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.”  _ as a reminder to use that line the next time Charles tried to scold him for something.

But that was it. If he had any insightful thoughts floating around in his head, they certainly weren’t showing up on paper. Not that it was his fault; the library didn’t feel like the ideal place to read. The chair was too hard and it hit his spine in weird places, his hair would fall in front of his eyes whenever he would look down at the pages, and his attention would always be pulled away by the sounds of other students flipping through books or whispering to each other. He might as well try to read in a crowded bar with how distracting everyone was going to be.

Magnus shifted his gaze from the book to the open planner placed nearby. The only appointment he had that day also happened to be the only one he’d written in there himself.

_ Fencing tournament. 7:30. West Gym. _

So on top of a billion majors, Charles also  _ had _ to take part in extracurricular activities, huh? It was annoying how accomplished he was.

The dorm was still empty by the time Magnus returned. Even though most of his social interactions in college centered around Charles, his packed schedule meant that Magnus spent most of his time in the dorm by himself. Which was fine, honestly he savored the moments of privacy.

He kicked off his shoes and immediately pulled his guitar out of the case. As he sat down on the bottom bunk, his eyes went to the bookshelf on the other side of the dorm. He really should get back on that reading list.

Magnus considered it for a moment, then shrugged and started playing his guitar.

There was always later, and he was already making good progress. He deserved a break.

He continued strumming away as he reclined back on the bed. Charles had decorated the space more since the last time Magnus trespassed onto his roommate’s bunk. Above his head were sticky notes with important dates and deadlines scribbled on them. 

Of course there was the Snakes N’ Barrels poster right by his head. Still not Magnus’ scene, but he wasn’t going to fault Charles for keeping a poster of four hot guys. Maybe someday he’d make the effort to get into their music, although he knew Charles would never let him live it down if he suddenly became a fan.

His strumming came to an abrupt stop when he noticed the bulletin board next to the poster. There were the usual items on display: more notes (of course), a copy of his schedule, receipts (for some reason), but what really caught his eye was one of the photos. 

Magnus had to sit up to get a better look at it. It was a recent photo of Charles sitting in the quad - with five other guys who Magnus had never seen before. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the context behind the photo. Who were these guys? Classmates? Guys from the fencing team? People from some other activity Magnus didn’t know Charles was part of? Whoever they were, Charles did appear to look comfortable around them, enough to even be smiling in the photo.

They definitely looked to be more from Charles’ world, with their short, neat hair and preppy clothes. If humans were created in a factory, they would have been from the same batch. Magnus couldn’t identify the reasons behind the pit slowly growing in his stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to move his fingers along the frets of his guitar.

It wasn’t until that moment when Magnus realized that he wasn’t Charles’ only friend.

And after that, it wasn’t long until he realized that Charles actually  _ was _ his only friend.

He had other friends, of course. But no one from school. It was hard to form connections when he never went to class and chose to stay in his dorm all day. Due to moving back and forth between his parents’ places, his friends before college were split up between two coasts. Since then he made most of his connections through the various local music scenes he’d venture into. But Charles was the only one he shared a room with for almost a year. With Charles, there were those initial few months where they couldn’t stand each other. They were too different - their personalities too clashing. It took time and effort for them to understand each other, and with that came a deeper appreciation. That little fucking dork with his infinite collection of notebooks and dayplanners probably knew Magnus on a deeper level than anyone else in his life.

Magnus seriously doubted Charles had that same level of connection with these walking polo shirts, but still. He felt an intense pressure on his chest whenever he looked at the photo. After they graduated, Charles would probably continue associating with guys like them, while Magnus would always be remembered as the weird stoner he roomed with in college.

...

He tried to let go of these feelings as he walked into the gym later that evening. This was about supporting Charles, not about his hang ups over being a sophomore in college with only one friend.

Magnus was crammed into the bleachers, surrounded on all sides by people who he assumed were all avid fans of college fencing. The main area of the gym was mostly empty, except for a long, narrow mat spread lengthwise across the glossy floor. Behind the mat, gathered near the far wall, were two groups of men wearing the distinctive white fencing attire. 

One of the men was Charles, standing near the back with his helmet tucked under his arm. Magnus considered waving to him, but decided that might be inappropriate. Sitting in that gym made him feel like he walked into that photo by Charles’ bunk, like he was entering a world he didn’t belong to. He didn’t need another reason to draw attention to himself.

The lights dimmed except for the ones directly over the mat. The chatter from the bleachers around him died down and the two teams lined up. It was at this moment that Magnus realized he didn’t know how fencing worked. How long were fencing matches anyway? He was only there to support Charles, not these other guys.

Two of those other guys were the first to face off. Even though he didn’t understand the rules, he still found some enjoyment in watching the fighters exchange advances towards each other, even though the motions were too fast and too far away for him to decipher them. The gasps and winces from the audience were his only indications for what was going on. However, Magnus kept glancing back at Charles, mostly because he was curious to see how he was responding.

To Magnus’ shock, Charles looked...calm. This was a major tournament and all of these eyes were going to be on him, judging him, and he barely looked affected. Magnus remembered how anxious he was over trying a little bit of weed the night before, but there he was, preparing to fight another man with a sword and he looked as calm as ever.

The crowd cheering and clapping pulled Magnus’ attention back to the match. Apparently Guy 1 beat Guy 2, or something. The two fighters exchanged a courteous handshake and returned to their respective sides of the gymnasium.

The rest of the tournament was a blur of white-clad young men lunging at each other with swords. Magnus was still able to appreciate the strategy and finesse even though most of his engagement was pretty passive. It wasn’t until he heard one of the commentators say the name “Offdensen” when Magnus sat up straighter in his seat.

Charles approached his side of the mat with a confidence Magnus had not yet seen from him. He and his opponent saluted to each other before pulling their masks on. Magnus kept his eyes focused on Charles, not once looking away as he got into position.

The match started off similar to all the ones Magnus had seen previously. A lot of quick advances and bouncing back and forth.

But then, something happened. Magnus didn’t have the expertise or terminology to explain what, exactly, but it looked like Charles came  _ alive _ . He moved towards his opponent with a level of finesse Magnus couldn’t begin to comprehend. 

Magnus didn’t have time to process the complexity of how Charles’ body maneuvered across the mat because before he knew it, the match was over and the audience was cheering. 

After shaking hands with his opponent, Charles pulled off his mask and,

Oh. Fuck.

Magnus, by some accounts, was a simple man. And seeing Charles with his face flushed, his hair darkened with sweat, wearing tight fencing attire, and holding a sword in his hand after utterly destroying his opponent?

Yeah. That was doing something for him.

As the tournament continued, Magnus could feel the audience’s energy change whenever Charles stepped up. He didn’t just bounce back and forth on the mat. He engaged with his opponent like a choreographed dancer. There was obviously skill and technique behind each of his movements, but there was also a sense of levity. A sense that Charles was exactly where he wanted to be in that moment. 

Magnus was hardly surprised when Charles’ team took home the victory. He even found himself joining in on the cheering as he watched them hoist up that trophy. In that moment, he swore Charles locked eyes with him, and then Magnus was exactly where he wanted to be.

After that display, Magnus almost didn’t know how to face him. But after the festivities were dying down, he managed to elbow his way through the mingling crowds.

“Hey.”

Charles turned away from his team and walked over to him.

“You actually came.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Magnus looked down and realized Charles was holding something under his arm. “What’s that?”

Charles held up a gold plaque, surprisingly sheepish considering his previous energy during the match.

“It’s for my, uh, individual competitions.”

“First place, huh? Good job.” Magnus dug his hands into his coat pockets. “You were really great out there.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about fencing, but I can tell you have something special.”

Charles smiled down at the floor.

“Thank you.”

“So, uh,” Magnus rocked back and forth on his heels. “You got first place in a sporting event, I finished one book, I think we both have cause to celebrate. You wanna go back to the dorm and watch a movie? Maybe order a pizza?”

Charles suddenly looked uncomfortable,

“Um,” he continued averting his eyes. “Sorry, but I already made celebration plans with my team.”

“Oh,” Magnus felt a pang in his chest, but he did his best to look unbothered. “No worries. There’s always later.”

Charles nodded,

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You want me to take that back to the room?” Magnus pointed down at the plaque. “Just so you don’t have to carry it around.”

“Would you?” Charles held the plaque out to him.

“Yeah, of course.” He took it in his hands, much heavier than he expected. “You have fun.”

Charles smiled,

“I’ll try. And, uh, thanks again for coming.”

Magnus nodded, smiling as well,

“Of course, buddy.”

Magnus waited until Charles rejoined his team before he let the hurt show up on his face.

The walk back to the residential hall was a blur. Magnus placed the plaque down on Charles’ bed and sat down beside it. He wrung his hands together in his lap as he stared at the bookshelf across from him. The assigned books he checked out of the library were piling up, obscuring the pulpy science fiction novels he actually enjoyed reading. He knew he should get back to that list, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stew in his own thoughts.

He hated it, obsessing over this feeling of rejection. In fact, “rejection” felt like too strong a word. Was he rejected? Absolutely not. His friend was simply spending the evening with other people. That was it. No malice. No hurt emotions. No reason to feel anything at all.

Also, this was  _ Charles _ . The same Charles who seemed to avoid social events whenever given the chance. The Charles who preferred to spend his free time in his dorm, reading a book or studying for a class while listening to music. The same Charles who, just the night before, said to Magnus without a hint of irony, “I would like to try weed”. Did  _ Charles _ really seem like the guy to be out all night at some rager? Of course not. It was only a matter of time before he would find it overwhelming and he’d want to come home. Any minute now, Charles would come through that door and everything would be back to normal.

That thought seemed to lift Magnus’ spirits enough to return to that reading list. Not enough to actually start reading any of the books, but enough to look at the list. It was a start.

Magnus soon got bored and instead moved on to his guitar. It was Friday night and the dorm was empty, so he saw it as an excuse to play as loud as he wanted. He was even tempted to plug his amp back in, but he didn’t need the RA to come knocking down his door again. With the empty room, Magnus also felt more free to experiment with his playing, to try out different styles and chord progressions without worrying about his roommate wincing or trying to cover his confused reactions. It was relaxing. Meditative, even.

He was broken out of this trance when the phone started to ring. Magnus placed his guitar on top of the case and got up to answer.

“Hello?”

Charles’ voice came in through the other side, with that distinctive tinny payphone quality

_ “Hey, uh, it’s Charles.” _

Magnus glanced at the wall clock. It had been just over an hour since the fencing match ended. Seemed on-par with Charles’ tolerance for social gatherings.

“Hey, man, is everything okay?”

_ “Yeah, everything’s fine.” _ A pause, only the static buzzing filling the space.  _ “You’re not, uh, you’re not doing anything right now, are you?” _

Just as he expected. Magnus struggled to keep his smile from seeping into his voice.

“Nope, not doing anything important.”

More silence. Fortunately, Magnus knew Charles could afford to have awkward pauses.

_ “It’s just, I wanted to invite someone from the team. To come over, that is. I didn’t want to impose.” _

“Oh.” 

Okay,  _ not _ what Magnus wanted to hear. It was bad enough to imagine these guys hanging around Charles in general, but now he was going to have to deal with one of these fuckin yuppies coming into his home? Absolutely not.

No, he couldn’t say that. It sounded insane. He was going to at least attempt to appeal to Charles’ other friends.

“Yeah, uh, sure.” He looked over at their movie collection. What kinds of movies did guys like that even like? “I promise, I’ll try not to embarrass you in front of your teammate.”

More silence. Shit, did Charles leave the house with a duffel bag full of quarters to afford this call?

_ “I meant, I, uh, wanted to have him over.” _ He paused again.  _ “Just us.” _

Shit! Shit! Shit!  _ Definitely _ not what Magnus wanted to hear. He braced his palm against the wall and pressed the phone against his forehead, unable to bring it back to his ear. Until he heard Charles’ distant  _ “hello?” _ .

“Of course, yeah, go ahead.” He was getting lightheaded. “I can step out for a bit.”

_ “Are you sure? I don’t want to kick you out.” _

“Hey, man, it’s fine. If you spent a lot of time in the dorm, I’d be sexiling you even more.”

_ “Uh huh.” _

“Just leave a sock on the door or something.”

_ “I’m going to go.” _

“Okay, uh, have fun.”

Magnus hung up, then slammed his fist against the wall. Over and over until the guy in the next room over screamed at him to stop. The dull throb in his knuckles barely masked the sharp pain in his chest and stomach. Everything hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to place it.

And now he was going to have to grab his essentials and leave. The only item he thought to grab was his guitar. Not because he planned on playing it, but because, if there was even the slightest chance that this mystery guy was the type of person to start playing any guitar he found without asking, he couldn’t risk it. Magnus was starting to make okay progress in his studies. He didn’t want that to be thrown away because he got expelled for murdering a fellow student for touching his six string.

After hoisting the case onto his back, Magnus stood in the center of the room. The knowledge that his feelings, whatever they could be called, were irrational only caused them to string more. Maybe it was a good thing he had to leave, because he needed some fresh air.

Magnus hurried through the empty corridors of the residential hall. He was just going to step outside and not think about it further. But that wasn’t going to be easy for him, because then he saw them walking in his direction.

Charles made a point to keep his head lowered, but Magnus was unfortunate enough to make direct eye contact with the man walking beside him. Time slowed when he realized he recognized him from the photo. He was similar in build and height to Charles, with cleanly-cut blond hair and well-kept clothing that made him look like a store mannequin that came to life. 

So that was Charles’ type, huh? It was like he went to the universe and said “could you, uh, send me a guy who’s the exact opposite of Magnus in every possible way?”

Magnus hated the fact that’s where his mind went.

The mystery guy was the first one to look away from Magnus’ stare. Magnus gripped the strap of his guitar case and sped up his movement until he was outside the building.

He could have gone to the student center, but he needed to be outside. It was dark, cold, and the grass squished beneath his boots as he trudged through the quad. This was fine. There was nothing to be upset about. He was just being dramatic as usual. This was  _ fine _ .

Magnus sat down on one of the metal benches and lit a cigarette. As he slowly blew the smoke past his lips, he tried to seriously focus and meditate on how he was feeling. Emotional management was important, after all.

Obviously a huge source of stress was knowing that Charles was getting laid more than him. Seriously, how did that happen? Admittedly, Magnus was in a bit of a dry spell, but come on. What did getting seduced by Charles even look like?

_ “Hey, uh, you want to go over some LSAT prep questions?” _

But when he dug deeper, he identified the source of his stress as the same underlying fear that plagued him since he saw that photo earlier that afternoon. The fear that this moment marked the start of things changing between him and Charles.

It had happened to him before. A friend of his would start going steady with someone, and soon it was like Magnus never existed. If he wasn’t written out of his friend’s life completely, he would be stuck third wheeling them and their happy relationship - which was somehow even worse. He couldn’t do it again. Not with anyone, and especially not with Charles.

Because clearly, Charles wasn’t the type of guy to have random hookups. Charles was the type of guy who picked out the next day’s outfits before going to bed. He was the type of guy who would get visibly uncomfortable whenever his schedule changed. He was the type of guy who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life in middle school, and here he was still following that same plan. Charles liked long-term commitments. That’s just the kind of person he was.

Magnus tried to bring himself to feel comfortable with the idea of Charles being in a relationship with this trust fund Ken doll. He’d probably be forced to listen to them talk on the phone, or he’d have to watch their eyes soften whenever they glanced at each other, or he’d have to hear Charles go on and on about how “funny and charming” Whatshisface is. Or worse, he’d stop seeing Charles altogether. Again, that always seemed to happen.

It wasn’t until he started coughing when Magnus realized he had been taking a drag off his cigarette without exhaling. He pounded his fist against his chest as he continued coughing up puffs of smoke. It reminded him of the night before. Was this mystery guy bringing Charles up to the roof so they could get high together? He doubted it.

Magnus lit a second cigarette after finishing his first one and smashing it on the ground beneath his heel. Rationally, he knew that he was making an ass of himself. He knew that previous events conditioned him to see life as a never-ending cycle of abandonment and he was just using that as a method of self-sabotage. He had a quarter of a psychology degree, okay? Maybe if he stuck with that program, they could have taught him how to fix this part of his brain.

After a while, Magnus got bored sitting on the bench and instead took to pacing back and forth in front of the residential hall. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside and check on them. It made everything feel too real.

The glass doors to the residential hall opened and Magnus stopped pacing. Mystery guy stepped outside, his hands buried in his blazer pockets. He stopped, and again Magnus was treated to a split second of awkward eye contact with him that felt like an eternity. Magnus held his stare. The man gave Magnus a weird look, then continued down the sidewalk and disappeared into the dark.

Magnus grimaced and put out his cigarette. Seemed like a sign that it was okay to go back inside.

Even though he’d seen the man leave and there was nothing on the doorknob, Magnus knocked out of courtesy anyway before stepping back into his dorm.

Charles was reclined back on his bed, with a book spread open in his lap. His slightly-mussed up hair was the only indication that something was different. That, and the way he was reading the textbook. It didn’t look like he was working to take in the information like he usually did, but rather like he was passively letting his eyes scan over the pages without much focus.

“You okay?” Magnus’ voice was hoarse. Probably from the cigarettes. Probably from his own throat trying to keep him from encouraging this conversation.

Charles closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“I’m fine.” He grabbed his flashlight out from under his bed and used it to gesture towards the lightswitch on the wall. “You can turn that off if you want. I’m just going to keep reading for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Magnus finished getting ready for bed and flicked off the light before climbing up into his bunk. A few seconds later, he could see the faint amber glow of Charles’ flashlight below him. It didn’t bother him. This was just another one of Charles’ behaviors he learned to become accustomed to. Especially on the nights before Charles had a major exam coming up, it was normal for Magnus to fall asleep to the gentle turning of pages and the scribbling of pencil on paper.

This was not one of those normal nights. 

Instead of the faint traces of light from Charles aiming the flashlight at his book, the light hit the entire far wall, even bouncing up against the ceiling by Magnus’ head. Indicating that Charles was holding the flashlight over the side of the bed, not reading at all.

“Hey,” Magnus spoke up again, softer this time. “Seriously, are you okay?”

He heard Charles sigh.

“I’m going to be fine. You don’t want to hear about this.”

“We’re friends, right? Tell me.”

The flashlight clicked off, sending the entire dorm into darkness. Then came the soft thud of Charles closing his book and setting it aside. Apparently, they weren’t going to be having this conversation.

But then,

“I’m not, uh, I’m not inconsiderate, am I?”

Well,  _ that _ caught Magnus off guard.

“What do you mean?”

Below him, he could hear Charles exhale shakily.

“I think...I think he expected more from me. Than what I was willing to give.”

Magnus frowned,

“You mean you didn’t…” he trailed off, trying to think of the most delicate way to phrase it. “You didn’t go all the way?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Another sigh. “I mean...I think he wanted me to commit. You know, like something...real.”

Magnus stared up at the pitch black ceiling, trying everything in his power to remain as unaffected by the conversation as possible.

“And that’s not what you want?”

“I know it sounds horrible, but no. I don’t have room in my life for a relationship. And even if I did, I don’t think I want that.” Below, Charles tossed around in his sheets. “There are too many variables in a relationship. Not to mention I’ll be forced to come out to my family. And I’m, um, I’m just not ready for that.”

Magnus nodded, even though he knew Charles couldn’t see him.

“If that’s what you want, he’s going to have to accept that.”

“And besides, I’m in  _ college _ ,” Charles continued. “I don’t want to have to commit to one person now. I know you understand.”

“What? What makes you think that?”

“You’re the one who said you’d be ‘sexiling’ me more if I wasn’t so busy.”

Shit, he really did say that. Not one of his proudest moments.

“Yeah, I’m not much of a relationship guy either.” Magnus shrugged, even though he felt like his chest was being crushed under a massive weight. “You have nothing to feel bad about.”

“Thank you.” A sigh. “I’m sorry for kicking you out.”

“It’s fine. Congrats again on the fencing thing.”

He could hear Charles give a slight laugh.

“Thank you.”

Magnus turned over in his bed, still wide awake long after he could tell Charles had fallen asleep. It felt like his nausea had spread to every nerve in his body. He dug his nails into the cheap plaster of their dorm wall.

He dodged a bullet. His fears of Charles replacing him were unfounded.

He had nothing to worry about. Nothing would be different between him and Charles.

But he knew this was naive. 

Because if the pain rising in his chest was any indication,

Things were now different between him and Charles.

And there was no way he could go back.


	5. Chapter 5

It was midterms season which, according to Charles at least, was a pretty big deal. Since Magnus was between majors, he wasn’t affected as much, but he was still making notable progress in his reading list. However, he was bored out of his mind. Everyone else on campus was swamped with exams or projects, making the college grounds feel like a ghost town occupied by extremely stressed ghosts. 

Charles was the absolute worst about this. During the weeks leading up, Magnus was certain that he exchanged only five words total with his roommate. Which was fine, as it gave Magnus time to let his emotions settle after the fencing incident. 

In a moment of desperation to find  _ anything  _ to occupy his time, Magnus tore a flyer off of a bulletin board in the student center and stuffed it into his pocket.

By the time Magnus returned to the dorm, Charles was still at their desk, clacking away at his personal computer. Exactly where he was when Magnus left earlier that afternoon.

“Keeping busy?”

“Papers,” Charles responded, as if he couldn’t afford to extend any of his focus or energy beyond his work.

“Ah, alright, I won’t bother you further.” He grabbed his leather coat from where it hung over the side of his bunk. “I’m heading out anyway.”

Charles actually stopped typing for a moment.

“Really? Where are you going?”

“I, uh…” Magnus debated over whether or not he should tell him. The reality felt way too embarrassing to admit. But he sighed and pulled the crumpled-up flyer out of his pocket. “I’m meeting with a book club.”

To Magnus’ surprise and relief, Charles didn’t laugh or even crack a smile at the absurdity of the situation.

“Sounds like fun. Which book?”

“ _ The Great Gatsby _ ,” Magnus shrugged. “Finished it last week, thought it would be good practice for my classes next semester.”

Charles’ face seemed to brighten for a split second.

“Oh! That was my favorite book in middle school.”

Goddammit, Charles always had a way of unintentionally making him feel stupid.

“Yeah, good stuff. I liked the part where the rich guy dies at the end.”

Charles frowned,

“Wait, are you attending a book club for a novel you’ve just finished?”

“Yeah, that was the plan. It will give me an edge over all those other idiots.”

“I don’t think that’s how…”

“I’m already coming into this late, okay? I need every advantage I can get.” Magnus plucked his copy of the novel off his bookshelf, the spine rippled from heavy use. “You wanna come? Take them all down together?”

Charles laughed,

“I’d like to, but I need to keep working. I’m sorry.”

Magnus bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

“Okay. Catch you later, buddy.”

…

Even though he had planned his evening around this, Magnus was still late. Not by much, but enough for when he eventually found the tiny classroom on the second floor of the English department, the group was already deep in discussion. He tried to enter the room as quietly as possible, but everyone stopped talking and turned towards him the second he opened the door.

“I…” Magnus coughed as he avoided looking back at the ten pairs of eyes that were now on him. “I’m Magnus. I’m here for the Gatsby meeting...thing.”

The other book club members scooted around to allow Magnus to drag another plastic chair into their circle. When he sat down, he kept an iron grip on his copy of the book. It was going to be fine. This was just an evening of civil discourse about a great American novel, and  _ oh fuck _ .

Directly across from him, on the other side of the circle, was that blond guy from the fencing team. The guy Charles had over. The guy who sent Magnus into that embarrassing spiral.

Goddamnit, this is  _ not _ what Magnus needed.

Magnus spent the month since the fencing tournament pushing those ugly emotions down. He recognized them as baseless and found it easy to avoid stewing over them. Especially as his friendship with Charles appeared to be carrying on as normal.

But sitting in that room, he could just feel all of that progress coming undone.

The rest of the group was staring at him, expecting him to contribute to the discussion, but Magnus kept his eyes focused on the other side of the circle, slouching further in his seat.

The guy cleared his throat and flipped to the center of the book.

“So, um, I wanted to talk more about how we see Nick and Jordan’s relationship portrayed-”

Magnus snorted, he couldn’t stop it.

Whatshisface looked up from his book,

“What was that?”

“It’s just,” Magnus rested the book against his thighs so he could fold his arms over his chest. “ _ That’s _ your focus?”

“I’m sorry, is there something you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes, there is.” Okay this was going to be his time to shine. “Obviously, the class differences are the most glaring issue, right? I mean, even the geography of the setting is based around class divide.  _ And _ , considering the context of the year the book was written-”

People were staring at him, but in a way that indicated that something was off with the energy.

“Yeah…” A woman to his left spoke up. “We talked about that during the first meeting.”

“Class isn’t really a major theme in this chapter.” Another student added.

“Everyone, everyone, please.” The guy across from Magnus interjected. Apparently he fancied himself their leader. “If someone has something to contribute to the discussion, we should let him.”

He nodded to Magnus, as if he were doing him a favor.

“Go on, then. The floor is yours.”

Magnus’ stomach was tying itself into knots.

“Never mind. It was nothing.”

“No, we want to hear what you have to say.”

Every one of Magnus’ instincts were telling him to run. That man was doing this on purpose. He knew he was going to make himself look like a fool in front of everyone - and that’s just what he wanted. This was just like that time in high school when some assholes convinced him to read his poetry out loud in front of the entire cafeteria. Apparently their sudden interest in  _ Ashes of Illusions: the Musings of Magnus Hammersmith _ was less than genuine.

No, he couldn’t repeat that. So instead, he ducked his head and mumbled something about “Jay Gatsby’s parties sounding gaudy”. Anything to get the eyes off of him.

It worked, at least. The discussion continued with everyone else paying Magnus little mind. Magnus barely paid attention anyway. He was too busy wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. God, he felt like an asshole. No, worse. He felt stupid. At least if he were smart, that could have made up for it, right? If he really wowed them with some groundbreaking insights, that would have excused everything. He stood by his points. No matter how much he enjoyed the book, reading through certain sections reminded him of the occasional times he would visit a rich friend’s house. That feeling of entering another world - a world that wasn’t his.

But he couldn’t voice that. It was too embarrassing, and he would rather be hated than pitied. Especially since that was the exact feeling plaguing his mind as he sat in that room.

So, he stayed quiet. Nodding along with whatever the other club members said, subtly scowling whenever Whatshisface said anything. This evening was a mistake, and he needed it to be over as soon as possible.

That wasn’t going to happen. After the meeting was dismissed and Magnus was dragging his chair back to the corner he got it from, Whatshisface tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Magnus felt his entire body freeze over, but he nodded and turned around to face him.

“Yeah, man. What’s up?”

“I just want to know,” he frowned and crossed his arms. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem?” Magnus shrugged, wishing even harder that a hole would open in the floor beneath him. “Who’s got a problem?”

“All I know is that you acted like a jerk during the meeting, and you’ve been staring at me the entire time.”

“You’re directly across from me. Where else am I supposed to look?”

“You know what-” He stopped, and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You said your name is Magnus, right?”

“Yes, and before you ask, it  _ is _ my actual name.”

“And I think I saw you that night…” He trailed off, then his eyes lit up in realization. “Wait, you’re Charles Offdensen’s roommate, aren’t you?”

Magnus could feel his joints locking up, but he managed to keep his cool.

“Yeah, what about it? You know him, or something?”

“Okay, because now I’m  _ really _ confused. Because Charles-” He stopped and looked around to make sure no one was listening before he continued. “Because Charles said his roommate wouldn’t have a problem with him and me.”

Magnus snorted,

“Well, if what Charles told me is any indication, there never was a ‘him and you’ to begin with.”

He stared at Magnus, then sighed and shook his head.

“Oh. Okay. Now I get it.”

“Now you get  _ what _ ?”

“This explains a lot, actually.” He laughed under his breath. “Of course.”

“Cool. Great talk.” Magnus added his plastic chair to the pile with a harsh slam. “Be seeing ya.”

“Just one thing.” Whatshisface interjected before Magnus had a chance to leave.

“What is it?”

“Charles is a good guy, okay? He’s a good guy with a lot of potential.” He sighed. “Don’t bring him down to your level.”

Something snapped inside Magnus and he stepped closer to him.

“What was that?” God, he loved how he could tower over this guy. His height was the one thing he could hold over this asshole’s head.

“I’m just saying,” he tried to back up, only to run into the pile of chairs. “Charles doesn’t need someone like you getting in his way.”

“Listen, dick. You don’t know Charles, and you certainly don’t know me.”

“I know you interrupted a college level book club meeting and gave a middle school level analysis of the first chapter.”

“Do you think you’re better than me?”

“I think that you should leave. This space isn’t for you.”

Magnus felt his eyes twitch. His entire body went warm with rage and humiliation.

“Okay, that’s it! Is this what you want?” Magnus shrugged his coat off and tossed it to the floor. “Because I will take you down, right here - right now!”

“You’re challenging me to a fight?” He scoffed. “You really want to do that?”

“What are you going to do? Tap me in the chest with one of your bendy swords? Can you  _ parry _ your way out of a knife fight? Fighting is just a game to you. What I do, is real.”

“What the fuck are you assholes doing?!”

Magnus looked over his shoulder to see the same female student from before, a three-ringed binder tucked under her arm and a furious expression on her face.

The other guy tried to explain himself,

“Stephanie, I-”

“No.” The woman, Stephanie, stopped him. “I don’t tolerate this shit my club. Take it outside, or calm the fuck down.”

Whatshisface tilted his head at Magnus, as if letting him make the call. God, there was nothing Magnus wanted more than to punch this guy’s lights out. But that would only make things worse for him. A knife fight behind the English building wasn’t going to win him any respect no matter who walked away unscathed.

“I was just leaving.” He eventually forced through his teeth, never breaking eye contact with the shorter man. He grabbed his coat from the floor, slung it over his shoulder, and turned on his heels to leave.

“By the way,” he said just as he was in the doorframe. “Gatsby dies at the end.”

“We know.” Stephanie groaned.

“The book is 60 years old.”

Magnus left, the pent-up rage and humiliation leading him to slam the door.

…

“So, funny story,” Magnus began as he hung his coat up after stepping back into his dorm. “I got kicked out of book club.”

No response. At first, he assumed that Charles was just that disappointed in him. Then he looked across the room and saw his roommate sitting at his desk where Magnus had left him, slumped forward in his chair fast asleep.

“Charlie?” Magnus gently shook his shoulder, but Charles barely stirred. His head was resting against the desk, deliberately avoiding the keyboard. He leaned over him to take a closer look at whatever Charles was typing, but it only took a few seconds of scanning through the dense text until Magnus felt his eyes glaze over. Yeesh, no wonder he fell asleep.

He made sure the work was saved before carrying Charles to his bed. Definitely not bridal-style or fireman’s carry or anything, more like he was dragging a body across the room by the armpits. After getting Charles situated in bed, he carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table he always kept them.

Magnus braced his palm against the side of the top bunk and stared down at him. Shit, even while he was sleeping Charles looked stressed. His brow was furrowed, his mouth pressed into a firm straight line. It looked as if everything he did, even sleeping, was work.

He sighed and leaned heavily against the bunk bed, pressing his forehead to the top of his hand.

“I know you’re a better person than me.” He said softly.

He kept a careful eye on Charles, monitoring his reactions to make sure he was still sleeping. When he didn’t respond, he continued.

“And usually that would piss me off, but…” He closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. “But for some reason, I don’t care that I’m not as good as you. I mean, you’re so smart and accomplished that it’s honestly kind of annoying, but you don’t look down on me.”

Magnus opened his eyes again to check on Charles. 

Still asleep. Good.

“I’m used to people seeing me as stupid, or dangerous, or beneath them. So, it’s refreshing that you treat me like I could ever be on your level.”

He dug his nails into the cheap wood. Even though the only person around was his sleeping roommate, the process of assigning words to these feelings that had been practically etched into his being was grueling. But once he started, he found that he couldn’t stop voicing them.

“I know you’re only my friend because you were forced to learn to tolerate me. You’re way more patient with me than most people would be. So...thanks, I guess.” He sighed. “That’s it. And, yes, I am talking to you even though I know you’re asleep. You didn’t think you could escape my bullshit that easily, did you?”

No response, just as Magnus hoped.

He turned away so he could get ready for bed, only to look back at Charles with a final comment.

“Oh, and sorry for threatening to stab your friend.”

…

Once midterms had passed, it looked like Charles was finally able to relax. Or, at least to the extent Charles could relax.

“Congratulations on returning to the world of the living,” Magnus remarked as Charles returned to their dorm after his last exam.

“Don’t congratulate me just yet. I still have to get my grades back.”

Charles took off his glasses before collapsing face-first onto his bunk.

Magnus chuckled,

“You’re almost halfway through college. How does it feel?”

Charles groaned into his pillow.

“I have finals in less than two months. Then more midterms. More finals. Then I’ll have to take the LSAT. Then I’ll have to start applying to law schools. Then-”

“Alright, alright. I get it, you’ll keep busy. Just take things one day at a time, or else you’ll lose your mind.”

Charles lifted his head from the pillow, his hair now mussed-up.

“Are you still going to that book club?”

A knot formed in Magnus’ gut, but he managed to keep his cool as he shook his head.

“Nah. Wasn’t my scene.”

“Hmm,” Charles frowned and thought for a moment. “I was talking to, uh, one of my friends on the fencing team the other day.”

_ Oh no _ .

“Did you…” he stared at Magnus strangely. “Did you try to challenge him to a knife fight?”

“I threaten a lot of people with that. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Charles somehow managed to perfect that “I know you’re lying, now tell me the truth” facial expression that would have put his own mother’s to shame.

Magnus sighed and spread his palms.

“Okay, fine. But he called my  _ Great Gatsby _ interpretation ‘basic’. What was I supposed to do?” He crossed his arms. “Wasn’t like I was actually going to do it.”

To Magnus’ great relief, Charles actually laughed.

“That’s reassuring. And if it’s any comfort, he said he’s not going to the school about this.”

“Really?” Magnus frowned. “Why?”

Charles shrugged,

“Probably doesn’t consider it to be a big deal. That, and I told him some things aren’t worth drawing attention to.”

Charles looked at him for a second, and Magnus  _ swore _ there was almost something accusatory in his stare, but it quickly passed.

“Anyway, uh,” Magnus cleared his throat, desperate for a change of subject. “Semester’s almost over. Any plans for the summer?”

Charles sighed and sat up in his bed.

“I’m staying with my family for a few weeks, then I have an internship in D.C.” He folded his arms over his knees. “Yourself?”

“I’m staying here. Some of my required classes are offered over the summer, so I thought I’d take the chance.”

Charles smiled,

“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man.” Magnus stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. Now was as good a time as any to bring up the topic he actually needed to talk about. “Charles?”

“Hm?”

“You know that since we’ll be starting our junior year next semester, we won’t be able to stay in the dorm anymore.”

Charles frowned as if he hadn’t considered that.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“So, I was wondering if, for next semester at least, maybe we could look into some student housing options. I looked around the area and I’ve seen some spaces we could afford.” He laughed shakily. “Unless you’re finally getting sick of my bullshit.”

Charles thought in silence for an agonizingly long time.

“Okay,” He said at last. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Magnus stared at him in disbelief.

“What, really?”

“Of course. I mean, these last couple years are going to be very stressful for me, and I don’t need the added pressure of learning to get along with a stranger on top of all of that. Besides, I like being your roommate.”

“Seriously?” Magnus laughed, still in disbelief.

“Seriously. Admittedly, it took awhile for me to get used to you, but I’m glad I did.”

“Likewise, buddy.” Magnus sighed as he felt that weight lifting off of his shoulders. “I’ve been mostly looking at the studios, but if we get a one-bedroom, you can take the room. I’ve found I sleep better on couches anyway.”

Charles stared at him strangely.

“Why don’t we get a two-bedroom?”

Magnus returned the strange look,

“Because those are expensive, dude.”

Charles shrugged,

“I’ll cover it.”

“What, no.” Magnus stood up straighter. “I’m not going to make you do that.”

“You’re not making me, I offered.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be in debt to you.”

“You’re not…” Charles sighed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Yeah, it’s way too early.”

Charles stared down at his hands, a slight smile forming on his face.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Magnus glanced around the room. “What am I being thanked for, exactly?”

“Just for being my friend.” He kept his gaze lowered. “I didn’t, uh, I didn’t have a lot growing up, so thank you.”

“Oh.” Magnus scratched the back of his neck. “You’re welcome.”

“Also,” he looked back up at Magnus, his lips barely suppressing a smirk. “I’m sorry I’m ‘so smart and accomplished, that it’s annoying’.”

Magnus felt his face pale.

“Son of a bitch, you were awake?!”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“Goddamnit!” Magnus turned around and punched the wall. Behind him, he could hear Charles laugh.

“But in all seriousness,” Charles continued. “I don’t think I’m a better person than you, and I never felt like I was forced to tolerate your presence. In fact, I look up to you in a lot of ways.”

“You mean literally, or-”

“Yes, Magnus. You’re tall. I hadn’t forgotten.”

Magnus laughed and pressed his forehead against the wall.

“Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

“Of course. Glad I got the chance to say it.” He paused. “Just, don’t threaten to stab anyone else on campus, okay?”

“But if I get sued, you’ll represent me, right?”

Charles’ silence was telling, but not unexpected.

“Just, stay out of trouble.”


	6. Chapter 6

The arrival of summer break snuck up on Magnus. Charles finished the semester with straight A’s (of course), but they barely had time to celebrate before he had to leave for the airport. Magnus insisted on seeing him off, even though Charles insisted it wasn’t necessary. They exchanged their goodbyes, an awkward two-second hug was exchanged, and then Magnus returned to campus to embark on the following two months by himself.

He kept busy. There were his English classes, obviously. And this time, he actually made an effort to attend all of them. The school had yet to send him his “Most Improved Player” trophy, but he assumed it was on its way.

In addition to classes, Magnus also got a job at a nearby bar. Charles’ comments about renting a more expensive apartment sent Magnus into a frenzy where he felt obligated to save up as much money as he possibly could in two months. He knew Charles offered to pay, but he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable living under that roof if that was the case. However, attending college in the first place already blew through all the money he had (and money he _didn’t_ have), so Magnus was starting from square one as far as saving was concerned.

Fortunately, Magnus learned that he was actually decent at bartending. He always felt more energized at night, the bar had enough constant stimuli that his mind was always occupied by something, and being able to memorize drink orders and combinations proved to not be that difficult for him.

 _Unfortunately_ , bartending required him to interact with customers. Dealing with obnoxious college-aged drunks was fine. Well, not _fine_ , but he could manage them. They were always a little too loud, a little too pushy with their orders, and, at times, a little too handsy. Magnus would leave some shifts with his hair sticking up around his head from drunk customers (usually female customers) touching it. It was beyond aggravating, but once he got them their drinks they usually left him alone in favor of hanging out with their other unnecessarily loud friends.

But no, the worst customers were the talkative ones. The ones who tried to have an actual conversation with Magnus and expected him to have a more engaged response than “uh huh,” or “wow, that’s crazy,” or “listen, man, it’s Friday night and I have to make five Flaming B-52s for these next customers, who I can tell aren’t going to tip me, so I can’t think about your divorce because I’m trying to focus on resisting the urge to murder everyone in this bar”.

Even worse was when they would try to offer him advice. Advice about careers, money, women. What was he supposed to say to that?

_“Oh, thank you for your wisdom, middle-aged man who came to a bar in a college town to hit on twenty-year-old women, I’m sure I have a lot to learn from you. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know what would possess someone to order five layered cocktails during the busiest night of the week and have the bartender set them on fire? Because I’m two seconds away from turning this blowtorch on myself.”_

Magnus wished he could vent to Charles about this. He’d return to their dorm, ranting and raving about some asshole customer. Charles would roll his eyes, but in a way that felt playful, not dismissive. Then he’d probably explain to Magnus the significance behind the Flaming B-52. Instead, he always returned to an empty room.

He managed to get his social fix with a series of random hookups. One of the perks of having the room to himself. Unlike Charles, Magnus made a point to avoid hooking up with anyone he knew he’d have to see again. So, no one from his classes, no one from work. And, also unlike Charles, Magnus made sure that they were both on the same page about what they wanted before sealing the deal. It did feel good to know that he was better than Charles at something. Was it crossing a line to fuck someone on his roommate’s bed? Probably. But it wasn’t like Charles was moving back in after the summer and it felt unsafe to use the top bunk. He was being safe and responsible. It’s what Charles would have wanted.

It didn’t take long for him to fall into this routine. He lived on his own before so it wasn’t a huge adjustment. But still, it was a relief when Charles finally called.

_“What’s a Flaming B-52?”_

“It’s coffee liqueur, Baileys, and Grand Marnier layered on top of each other in a shot glass. It’s more of a dessert than a real drink.”

_“What’s ‘flaming’ about that?”_

“Then I have to set it on fire.”

_“Wait, they trust you with a blowtorch?”_

“They shouldn’t, but yeah.”

It was near midnight for Magnus by the time Charles called, so he knew it had to be much later for him. The hushed voice he spoke with said as much.

_“But it sounds like you’re juggling school and work quite well.”_

Magnus shrugged as he wound the phone cord around his finger.

“It’s been okay. Classes are kinda boring, but I’m staying on top of it.”

_“No urge to change majors again?”_

Magnus laughed,

“After all that work you went through to pick out this program, I know you wouldn’t forgive me if I did.”

_“Good, that was the right answer.”_

“Thanks, man.” Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes. “How have you been, by the way? How’s the, uh, how’s the family?”

Shit, he shouldn’t have brought that up. Even over the phone, Magnus could feel the energy shift.

_“It’s uh….it’s okay. It’s just my mother, my step-father, and me right now. My siblings won’t be in town until the holidays, I think, so it’s not as bad as it could have been.”_

“That’s good, at least. Do you think you’re going to,” Magnus hesitated. “Have you thought about coming out to them yet?”

Charles went silent.

_“Uh, give me a moment.”_

Distantly, Magnus could hear Charles set the phone down, then came the faint sound of a door opening and closing.

When Charles returned to the phone, his voice was even quieter than before.

_“Okay, my parents are still asleep, but I needed to double-check. They, uh, they listen in on my phone calls a lot.”_

“Is the coast clear?”

_“Yeah, we’re good.”_

“Cool. So that means I can talk about how much I LOVE DICK AND WEED.”

_“MAGNUS!”_

Even though he couldn’t see him, Magnus had no trouble picturing Charles’ scandalized expression. When Magnus finally got control of his laughing, he glanced around at the walls of his dorm. One of the benefits of staying on-campus during the summer was that most of the dorms were empty, so Magnus was free to yell fucked up shit without anyone else hearing.

Well, except for Charles, of course, who set down the phone to check the door again.

 _“They’re still asleep,”_ Charles said when he returned. _“But don’t do that again.”_

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

 _“Try to.”_ Charles sighed again. _“But no, I’m not coming out any time soon. I have a plan for that.”_

Of course he did.

“What’s your plan?”

 _“I’m going to wait until after I graduate law school, but only if I rank within the 99th percentile on the LSAT and the Bar Exam. After that I’m going to try to land myself a stable, well-paying job and work until I gain some acclaim in the legal world. So then when I tell them, they won’t be disappointed in me because I’ll have all of these other accomplishments to fall back on.”_ Charles paused. _“Oh, and I’m probably going to wait until they’re on their deathbeds to tell them.”_

“You really have a plan for everything, don’t you?” Magnus chuckled.

_“That’s been the plan since high school. So do you, uh, do you think you’ll ever tell your family?”_

Magnus snorted,

“I can’t tell my dad what I had for breakfast without him thinking I’m oversharing. He’s not ready for the ‘b-word’ talk.”

_“And...are you okay with that?”_

“Yeah,” Magnus shrugged. “I’m just going to let ‘ _b_ i-gones be _bi_ -gones’.”

_“Oh, boo.”_

“Thank you, thank you.”

_“When I get back to the west coast, remind me to strangle you for that.”_

“Sure thing, buddy.” Magnus rolled his eyes and smiled.

When Charles first told Magnus he was going to Portland to stay with his family, he didn’t think that they would have to worry about time zone differences.

But no, it turns out there’s a Portland, Maine too. Or, as Charles always put it, “The First Portland”.

 _“I just can’t wait for my internship to start so I can get out here.”_ Charles sighed wearily.

“What? The summer beach scene isn’t kicking off in the same town Stephen King was born in?”

 _“Our beaches are fine, and I can’t believe that’s the only thing you know about Portland.”_ Charles grumbled. _“No, I mean I need to get out of this house. It’s like I forgot how to act around my parents. I almost keep letting it slip that I’m a human being with thoughts and opinions.”_

Magnus laughed, and to his relief Charles did too.

“Yeah, we can’t have that.”

_“I mean, I can have thoughts, but I can’t voice them until I get my Bachelor’s.”_

“And opinions?”

_“Those are only for after law school.”_

Magnus chuckled,

“Things suck now, I get that. So, tell me about this internship.”

_“You don’t want to hear me talk about working in a government office.”_

“You’re right, thanks. But as long as you’re in D.C., can you do me a favor?”

_“Uh, what is it?”_

“I need you to throw a bucket of pig’s blood on the Capitol steps.”

_“Magnus.”_

“Doesn’t have to be pig’s blood, of course. Just any kind of blood you can get in large quantities.”

_“I’m not doing that.”_

“Seriously, dude? We’ve been friends for how long, and I ask you to do this _one thing_ -”

_“No.”_

“Shit, man. I’m just trying to save you from selling your soul to the meat grinder that is this nation’s government.”

_“Hm, so I’m guessing your English classes haven’t covered coherent metaphors yet?”_

“You dick, that was coherent as fuck.”

_“Guessing similes are a later topic as well.”_

Charles laughed, but he was still clearly still making an effort to keep his voice quiet.

_“I miss you.”_

That caught Magnus off guard. He wound the phone cord tighter around his hand.

“I, uh, I miss you too.” He rolled over so he was lying on his side. On Charles’ bunk, of course. He didn’t feel like using the ladder.

_“I know it’s late, but do you want to talk about the apartment?”_

“Yeah, sure.” Magnus looked over at his work uniform, which was draped over the chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “I’m working on saving up some funds, if you’re still dead set on that two-bedroom.”

_“Magnus, I said I’d cover-”_

“I know, but,” Magnus sighed. “I don’t want you to have to support me. I hate feeling like a burden.”

Charles was quiet, and Magnus wondered if he was checking again to make sure his parents weren’t listening in.

_“You’re not a burden, Magnus. I’m offering because I want you to have your own space. I don’t want you to have to sleep in the living room in your own home.”_

Magnus shrugged,

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

_“But you’re with me now, so that’s unacceptable.”_

Magnus closed his eyes. He wished he could encourage Charles to stay on the phone, even if he wasn’t saying anything, just so he could fall asleep and pretend like everything was normal.

But instead,

_“I should go. It’s almost 4AM and my parents are going to notice the phone bill.”_

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.” Magnus chewed on his lip. “Talk to you later.”

“I’ll try, but I’ll probably be busy. So, uh, see you again in the fall?”

“Yeah.” Magnus sighed. “I’ll see you again.”


	7. Chapter 7

Even with three thousand miles between them, Charles still found a way to manage Magnus’ life. Which he was thankful for, because he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to survive the process of renting a place on his own.

When Magnus was handed a stack of paperwork stuffed with legalese, he panicked. The renters could tell as well. After all, he was a gullible college student who was renting an apartment for the first time. The lease could have demanded that Magnus offered up his gallbladder and he would have no way of knowing.

Unfortunately for the renters, Magnus was friends with Charles. And after getting him on the phone, Charles not only got their applications approved, but negotiated the terms of their lease and rounded down their rent in the process. Shit, where was Charles when Magnus was applying for student loans?

And so, Magnus was able to move into their new two-bedroom apartment during the last week of summer break. It was going to take a while for the place to feel as “lived-in” as their dorm. The living room was empty, except for a couch Magnus bought secondhand from someone in his poetry class, and the old television set from their dorm, which Magnus placed on a pile of books because they didn’t have a table yet. But they did have a kitchen, as well as a bathroom they didn’t have to share with the rest of the student body, so it was already a major step forward in the right direction.

Magnus’ new bedroom was bare with only a twin-sized bed, dresser, and the piles of boxes he still had yet to unpack. Charles’ room looked the same, with everything he couldn’t take to Maine packed up in boxes as well. He sat on his bed, which still didn’t have any sheets or pillows, and allowed the moment of stillness to occupy his mind. It was peaceful, but unnervingly so.

This was  _ his _ bedroom. When was the last time he had a room to himself? His own space. He always had roommates in college, even two of them during his freshman year. During his senior year of high school (the second go-around), he spent his time drifting from friend’s house to friend’s house, crashing on their couches, basements, sometimes even the back seats of their cars. It wasn’t the easiest lifestyle, but he had years of experience behind him.

Back when he still lived with his mom, he learned how to pack up his belongings in a suitcase in under ten minutes. That way, when his mom would wake him up in the middle of the night because “someone was after them” and “they needed to run”, he was ready. Who was after them? The answer always changed. Usually the police, or the government (both American and Soviet), or the bank, or just “bad guys”. Aliens would also come up from time to time. However, as Magnus got older, he would hear his own father’s name pop up more during these midnight escape events. Even though he was on the opposite side of the country and wanted nothing to do with either of them.

Speaking of Mr. Hammersmith, things didn’t settle down after he (begrudgingly) got full custody of Magnus. His father was stuck in a state of perpetual bachelorhood, which wasn’t easy to keep up when he suddenly had a preteen son to take care of. Whenever his father didn’t want to deal with him, Magnus was told to stay at a friend’s house. He stayed at his friends’ houses a lot.

That would have been difficult enough, even without his mom randomly barging through state borders and court rulings to “pick him up from school”, which was apparently code for “drag him back to California”.

It took Magnus years to realize that this was kidnapping, because it certainly didn’t feel like that at the time. He always pictured kidnapping to be violent, like some shadowy figure grabbing someone in the night. Not his own mother offering to take him out for ice cream after school, but not clarifying that she meant an ice cream shop on the other side of the country.

So it goes without saying that Magnus learned from an early age to never hope for stability. Wherever you are, never let yourself get comfortable, because then it will be all the more painful when you have to leave.

Signing that lease reminded Magnus of all the times he tried to declare a major, but much more painful. Couch-surfing was far from glamorous, but at least he could leave whenever things went bad. The lease was for a year. A full year. 365 days. Anything could go horribly wrong in that amount of time, and he would be trapped.

The signing itself was way too casual for the amount of weight it held. Magnus felt like he should have been handed a quill dipped in his own blood, not a shitty ballpoint pen which was almost out of ink. He signed it, even though his conscience was screaming at him not to. The pen died halfway through the final signature, which meant his first apartment was rented under the name “Magnus Hammersm-”. Magnus made a mental note to ask Charles if that still counted. He figured it did, but even the slight possibility of leeway was enough to prevent him from passing out on the carpet right there.

Charles was scheduled to return by the end of the week. When Magnus opened the door for him, instincts took over and he pulled him into a hug.

“Oh,” he gave a little surprised laugh, one hand curled against Magnus’ upper arm and the other still holding his rolling suitcase. “I guess we’re, uh, doing this now.”

“Sorry,” Magnus pulled away. “It’s just good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” In a subtle motion, Charles reached up and brushed his hand against the ends of Magnus’ hair, which now reached past his shoulders. “Your hair grows fast.”

Magnus shrugged,

“I’m not using my brain, so my head needs something to do.”

He sat back on the couch as he watched Charles explore their new apartment.

“It’s official now.” He said under his breath as he placed a hand on one of the walls.

“Yeah.” Magnus responded, a sinking feeling rising in his chest. “I guess so.”

When Charles returned after dropping his suitcase off in his room, Magnus finally noticed how worn-out Charles looked. His movements were slow and wobbly, his usual neat hair was coming undone around his head.

“Jet lag?”

Charles nodded, slumping against the wall as if he were unable to hold himself up. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“I need to get my sleep schedule on track before classes start. Can you make sure I don’t fall asleep? Whatever I do: don’t let me fall asleep before 9:30.”

In Magnus’ opinion that was still way too early, but he nodded.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Magnus managed to keep him occupied by getting him to ramble about his internship, the details of which came close to putting him to sleep before Charles, but he seemed enthusiastic so Magnus made an effort to pay attention.

“Oh,” Charles interjected at one point as he got off the couch. “I just remembered, I got you something. It’s in my suitcase.”

“Seriously, man?” Magnus called over the back of the couch as Charles hurried back to his room. “I told you, you didn’t have to do that!”

“I know! But then I saw this and I couldn’t help it.”

Charles returned to the living room carrying a glossy wooden box, easily nicer than anything Magnus brought to the apartment. The box was long and flat, like the kind he’d seen hold cigars in movies. Or a watch. Goddammit, was this Charles’ passive-aggressive way of addressing his issues with punctuality?

Magnus narrowed his eyes at Charles as he took the box in his hands and maintained eye contact as he undid the metal latch on the front. When he opened the lid and looked down, his eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

Resting on top of the red velvet lining was a knife. Not a regular kitchen knife or anything of that sort, but a fuckin’  _ dagger, _ with a leather and bronze handle and a five inch obsidian blade that gleamed under the dim lighting. Magnus carefully tilted the box back and forth, watching the light dance across the polished metal. It was one of the most beautiful things Magnus had ever seen.

“I, uh, figured you wouldn’t want a normal souvenir.” Charles commented, clearly noticing Magnus’ astonishment.

“Yeah, no kidding.” He set the box back down on his lap and looked back up at Charles. “You really got this for me?”

He shrugged,

“I said I wasn’t going to get you anything, but that practically had your name on it already.”

The knife looked so pristine and perfect that Magnus almost didn’t want to touch it, but he slowly lifted it from the case to test out the grip. It had a good heft to it, and the handle fit so well in Magnus’ palm that it felt custom made.

“Thank you.” Magnus smiled as he laid the knife back down. “I promise to only use it when I need to stab someone important.”

“Well, it’s decorative so ideally you won’t use it for  _ any _ stabbings,” Charles rolled his eyes. “But you’re welcome.”

Magnus got up to take the knife to his room. When he got back, Charles was curled up on the couch, his head resting on the cushions and his eyes closed.

“Charles?”

No response.

Magnus frowned.

Shit, he looked so peaceful. Magnus really didn’t want to wake him up so carelessly.

Which is why he was going to wake him up with  _ a lot _ of care.

It had been far too long since Magnus was able to use his amp.

“Hey! Wake up!” 

Magnus struck a chord that reverberated through the living room and certainly did the trick waking Charles up.

“Ah!” He yelped, nearly falling off the couch. “You have an amp now?!”

“Fuck yeah, I have an amp!” Magnus yelled over his own strumming. “We got no neighbors, no RAs, I’m a free man!”

Charles cupped his hands over his ears.

“You could have just shaken me awake or something!”

“Where’s the fun in that?!”

Magnus put his guitar away and sat next to Charles on the couch, who was continuously closing and opening his eyes in an effort to stay awake.

“Hey,” he tapped him on the shoulder. There was probably a limit on the amount of times he could do that guitar thing. “You wanna watch a movie, or something? That should occupy your mind.”

Charles nodded and Magnus went over to sort through their collection of tapes next to the television. It was the only box he unpacked all the way.

“What are you in the mood for?” Magnus asked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. Something relaxing? I’ve been travelling for hours now and I want to unwind.”

Magnus held a tape up.

“ _ Blood Feast? _ ”

“Perfect.”

…

“This is going to sound really weird,” Magnus commented about an hour in, mostly to make sure Charles hadn’t fallen asleep, not because horror films tended to freak him out and he needed a distraction. “But does the gore in this movie look kind of delicious?”

“I’m really glad you said something, because I think that every time we watch this.”

“It looks like it would be cherry-flavored.”

“Really? I always thought it would taste more like gazpacho.”

“But we agree that we want to eat everything on screen right now, yes?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They continued watching the movie in silence, and the entire time Magnus was very much aware of how close Charles was sitting next to him on the couch. Closer than he had to be, all things considered. The couch wasn’t huge, but Charles could have sat towards the other end. Honestly, one of Magnus’ minor worries about the new apartment was losing moments like that. With the separate rooms and the larger living space, Magnus assumed that the nights spent sitting next to Charles on his bunk or on the floor and watching movies were going to be lost forever.

When the movie ended and Magnus was just about to get up to remove the tape, he felt something thud against his shoulder. He did jump a bit, but only because that was a perfectly normal reaction. It definitely was not because the horror film had any effect on him and he  _ definitely _ did not yelp when it happened.

Magnus looked down to see Charles slumped against him. It was hard not to focus on the little details of his face as he slept. He knew it was probably weird to look at him so closely like that, but Charles was the one who decided to fall asleep so close to him. 

He really must have been exhausted because he actually looked peaceful for once. The lines on his face were relaxed, his breathing slow and gentle. His glasses were askew from where they bumped up against Magnus’ shoulder. The weight of Charles leaning against him was heavy, but in a nice way. It was like, even if only on a subconscious level, Charles was trusting Magnus to support him.

Magnus glanced at the guitar propped up on the other side of the room, but decided against it.

“Hey,” he said, loud enough for Charles to hear, but soft so he wouldn’t startle him. “Charlie?”

Charles stirred a bit and looked up at him, although he was clear he was mostly asleep. His eyes couldn’t even open up all the way, the ring of hazel nearly invisible through his heavy eyelids and dilated pupils. That combined with his tousled hair, crooked glasses, and gently parted lips,

Okay, definitely  _ not _ a thought Magnus should humor further.

“I’m sorry,” Charles mumbled before falling back against Magnus’ sleeve.

“You’re good, just trying to look out for you.” He craned his neck over the back of the couch so he could stare at the clock on the wall behind them. Ugh, those were hard enough to read when he  _ wasn’t _ upside down. 

He eventually figured out that it was 8 PM, which was not the time Charles was aiming for, but the guy looked so worn out that Magnus decided to just let him have this.

So, he continued allowing Charles to lean against him. Even though he was slowly pushing him against the armrest.

“Magnus?” He mumbled again.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Magnus froze. Did Charles somehow sense his reluctance, or was he just aware of his general commitment issues.

“Charles, I-”

“I’m really comfortable right now,” Charles continued, half into Magnus’ shoulder. “Don’t get up.”

“Oh,” Magnus let out a shaky laugh when he realized that his nerves were acting up for no reason. “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

Charles hummed in approval and seemed to fall right back asleep.

Magnus reclined back against the couch, feeling the slow rise and fall of Charles’ chest with each breath pressed to his arm. The black television screen was just showing flickers of static. From the kitchen, he could hear the faint buzzing sound from the appliances. Outside, rowdy students were laughing and talking loudly to each other as they went off to enjoy the nightlife. When their voices faded, the outside world drifted back into non existence and everything became still.

It was that same stillness that haunted Magnus when he first moved in. The reluctance to allow himself a moment to catch his breath. The reluctance to tell himself that he had a home now.

But this time, he allowed himself to feel at peace, to appreciate the silence. He knew this moment would pass, and maybe then he would be forced to pack his bags and run like all those other times. But at that moment, the urge to do so was no longer picking at his mind.

Because at that moment, for the first time since he could remember, Magnus was also comfortable.

Even if his arm had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Wumbo-Calling (Wumbo-Requiem on AO3) for making this beautiful piece inspired by this chapter <3  
> https://fishklok.tumblr.com/post/640170691035119616/hi-um-its-a-little-late-right-now-but-i-made-some


	8. Chapter 8

When the new semester started, Magnus fell into his routine faster than he had expected. The kitchen table (Charles bought actual furniture for the place the day after he moved in) became his designated reading space. He’d spend his mornings there with a cup of black tea, or several, and work through his assigned readings before leaving for his classes that day. Even though he was still nowhere near Charles’ rather excessive approach to studying, it still came as a shock to himself when he realized that, for the first time in his entire life, it didn’t feel like school was designed to torture him.

Except for this one paper he had to write.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was going to write about. His plan was to analyze the themes of witchcraft and magic in  _ Macbeth _ . He always had an interest in the occult and he dated a wiccan in high school, so it seemed like a good fit.

Except, Magnus was already starting to panic. This was bigger than any paper he had to write in the past. Not just grade-wise, but in what the paper represented. He didn’t want to turn in some last-minute bullshit and end up with a D, or pay one of his friends to write the essay for him (also resulting in a D, because his friends tended to be on the same level as him). He wanted to care. This paper would be proof that he was finally moving in the right direction.

Unfortunately, caring takes a lot of effort, and Magnus always felt like he was just falling short. He spent a month combing through library books, most of which weren’t even assigned by the class, collecting as much information as he could until his fingers were rubbed raw from turning pages long into the night. And still, he ended up barely reaching the halfway point of the required page count.

Venting to Charles about how stressed he was proved to be pointless, because Charles was a third year pre-law student - meaning he lost all perspective.

Magnus expected a bigger response when he told him the minimum number of pages. Instead, Charles just stared at him blankly, as if he expected more.

Rather than using the computer lab to transcribe his essay, Charles allowed Magnus to use the personal computer in his room. 

“For academic purposes only”, he specified.

After many grueling weeks, the paper was complete. Magnus pressed his face to his steepled fingers as he stared at the screen. Sure, it was done, and sure it reached the page count. But was it  _ good?  _ That was the real test. Witchcraft in  _ Macbeth _ ? Even though the topic ruled his life for an entire month, once it was over it felt so...basic. This was his chance to prove he was smart, but as he looked over the words, it was impossible not to recognize it as his own writing. Nothing had changed. Even if he wrote a lot of words, he just wrote a lot of words in the dumbest possible order. That’s all what he was ever capable of in the past, why would that change now?

Maybe the professor would give him a C out of pity.

Magnus heard something from the living room: the distinct sound of a book being thrown against a wall. Magnus was an English student, so he was quite familiar with what that sounded like.

“Charles?” Magnus slowly opened the door and peered into the living room. “You okay, buddy?”

Charles was standing in the living room, visibly shaking with his face buried in his hands. It looked like an explosion went off in an office supplies store. Along with the thick paperback book Charles had chucked at the wall, pens, pencils, highlighters, and loose leaf paper covered in indecipherable scribblings were scattered across the floor.

“I took a practice test for the LSAT,” Charles’ voice was unnervingly level. “And I calculated my score.”

“Uh,” Magnus scanned his eyes across the clutter. “And, uh, how’d that go?”

Charles’ hands were now clawing their way through his hair.

“161. That’s what I got. How do  _ you _ think it went?”

“I still don’t know. That number means nothing to me.” Magnus stepped into the living room and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him. “What’s it out of?”

“180.”

“And the lowest?”

“120.”

“See? You’re much closer to the top than the bottom.” He paused to make sure the math checked out. “You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t understand. A 161 is an 80%. That’s a B. Closer to a C. Most of the schools I’m applying to won’t even accept a score like that.” Charles sighed and began gesturing with his hands, as if he were having an intense argument with the wall he was still facing. “I’ve been working so hard. This is all I’ve ever wanted. I put other dreams of mine on hold to work towards this, and what has all of that led up to? A 161.”

Charles didn’t get angry. Well, not in the way Magnus would. Charles never yelled, or cursed people out, or resorted to violence (aside from the occasional book toss). Magnus swore he once saw Charles stub his toe and just say “huh, that hurt”, and move on with a shrug. The most he seemed to show was frustration, disappointment, or annoyance. Never rage.

Unless you knew what to look for. And Magnus did, which is why he was keeping a safe distance with his back pressed against the bedroom door.

See, Charles wouldn’t get louder as he got angry. Instead, his voice would get quieter and he would articulate all of his words with a greater sense of purpose. Like he wanted you to hear every syllable with devastating clarity. There was always that looming sense that he was going to snap at any moment, even though he never would.

Dealing with someone who had a louder, more outwardly violent way of expressing anger sucked. Magnus knew that, both as someone who expressed himself that way and as someone who had to live with many people who also did the same. But there was something much more terrifying about the quiet ones.

“You said it was a practice test, right?”

Magnus learned a long time ago that when Charles got into fits of anger like this, the best way to deal with it was to help him logic his way through his feelings. Giving him a space to vent would often only add more fuel to the fire. But engaging with his arguments would give him something to think about, which would eventually cool his brain down.

It was the polar opposite of how Magnus worked, but it did give him the rare opportunity to be “right” around Charles.

“Yes,” Charles nodded, already starting to look less heated. “It was just a practice test.”

“How about you let me take one too? I guarantee you’ll feel much better about your score.”

Charles’ lips twitched into a smile. Self-deprecating humor worked too.

“We both know you don’t want to spend your weekend taking a four hour exam.”

“Exactly. But you do, which already puts you ahead of most.”

At least he stopped shaking. Charles turned his attention away from the wall and looked around at the chaotic display around him with increasingly widening eyes. 

Oh great, Charles was already entering his next stage of expressing anger:

Embarrassment for expressing an emotion in such a visceral way, followed by shutting down.

He needed to act fast and get him out of there.

“Hey,” Magnus allowed himself to step further into the room. “Why don’t we get you some fresh air? Let you clear your head. When’s the last time you went outside?”

Charles frowned,

“I had to go out for class.”

“And that was two days ago, and you’ve been inside studying ever since.” He placed his hands on his shoulders, if anything just to keep his attention away from his surroundings. “I need to step away from some work too. Come on, this will be good for us.”

“I can’t afford to spend too much time-”

“Just a short walk, that’s all. The LSAT isn’t going anywhere.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut, then sighed.

“Fine. A  _ short _ walk.”

He knelt down and picked his book up, but Magnus stopped him.

“No. Leave it.”

“Magnus, I still need to study.”

“Yes, and now you’re taking a break. The school stuff stays here.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at Magnus as he placed the book down on the end table.

“I have other classes I also need to study for-”

“Oh my god, it’s a  _ short _ walk. You’ll be fine.”

…

Magnus’ timing worked out quite well because it was the perfect day to go outside. The air was crisp with the changing seasons, also indicated by the canopies of vibrant orange and red leaves from the trees growing along the pathways. The lazy Sunday afternoon meant most of the campus was slow and inactive, aside from the occasional student or faculty member going for a peaceful stroll outside. It was the one day of the year that the college actually looked like the front of their brochures.

He managed to get Charles to sit down on a bench outside the student center. Even though he didn’t seem to be as visibly angry as he was back in the apartment, it was clear he was still out of it. When a large leaf fell onto his head from the tree above them, he didn’t seem to notice it. Magnus had to remove it for him.

“See? Fresh air. Feeling better already?”

No response.

“Or, we can just sit in silence.” Magnus shrugged. “That works too.”

Charles sighed,

“I’m sorry.” He slumped his shoulders. “I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, that’s my job.”

Charles smirked, but only for a second.

“So much is riding on this and I,” he shook his head and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “If I don’t excel at the one thing I’ve been dedicating my life to, then what am I?”

Magnus glanced to the side, watching the multicolored leaves slowly flutter to the ground.

“You want me to answer that? I’m not as prestigious as the LSAT, but I can be just as brutal.”

Charles raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, hit me.”

“Okay, sure.” He shrugged. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’re not just an expert in your chosen field, but you pushed yourself to be an expert in many chosen fields. You can’t allow yourself to not be an expert in something, because then you feel like you’re not in control.”

“That psychology degree did a number on you, huh?”

“But you’re more than that,” Magnus continued. “You have good taste in movies, you’re funny, and your wide variety of interests shows that you’re open minded enough to try new things. You’re much more well-rounded than a test, or yourself, can give you credit for.”

“Wow, that’s-”

And, you’re willing to give someone like me a space in your life.” He stared down at his hands. “And sometimes I wonder if that’s just because I make you look better by comparison, but I’m okay with that. Because I know that I wouldn’t have another chance to be close to your world.”

Charles’ expression softened and his eyes widened.

“Magnus, you don’t actually think that, do you?”

Magnus shrugged,

“I like to think I’m a little self aware, and I’ve been in this position before.”

“Magnus, I  _ never _ once thought that you made me look better by comparison.” He paused. “Actually, sometimes I think it’s the other way around.”

“Seriously?” Magnus furrowed his brow. “Listen, if you’re just trying to make me feel better-”

“I’m not. I’m also self aware, okay?” He leaned back against the bench and looked up at the branches above their heads. “I know I’m some bookish pre-law student and you’re...actually cool. A guy like you never would have paid attention to me in high school.”

Magnus laughed,

“If it makes you feel any better, you would have avoided me in high school too. I was a lot to deal with.”

“Ah, so not much has changed?”

Magnus smirked and nudged Charles in the ribs.

“Come on, you set me up for that.”

Magnus rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you just called me cool.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late. You’re never living that down.” Magnus chuckled. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

Charles’ smile faded.

“Better. I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

“Oh yeah, you really made a scene when you dropped your highlighters.”

Charles scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“But hey, if it helps,” Magnus continued. “I can help you study for your test. How does that sound? I can randomly ambush you with flashcards throughout the day.”

“Thanks, but that’s not how the LSAT works.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like,” Charles frowned. “Here, I’ll give you an example.”

Charles reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook.

Magnus tilted his head to the side.

“What’s that?”

“I keep a notebook of LSAT questions on me.”

“Damn it, Charles, I told you to leave the school stuff in the apartment.” He should have frisked him before they left.

Charles flipped to a random page.

“Okay, here’s one. ‘ _ A hostess is sending personalized gift bags for 7 guests: H, I, J, K, L, M, and O-’ _ ”

“Wait, this is about law, right? Is she using the gift bags so smuggle drugs?”

“No, let me finish.  _ ‘...in accordance with the following conditions: L cannot receive a gift before M; at least two guests need to receive a gift after O but before L; K must be the second guest to receive a gift-’ _ ”

“Sounds like some needy friends.”

“It’s not-” Charles groaned. “It’s not literal. This question could be about anything. It’s testing your ability to process information and break it down into patterns. See?”

Charles showed him his notebook. Written under the question were a bunch of symbols and a hastily sketched-out chart. Magnus knew he still couldn’t begin to process the information given, but Charles’ notes almost made it make a tiny amount of sense. Almost. He could still feel his brain shutting down.

“And you’re being asked to do stuff like this for four hours?”

Charles shrugged and closed his notebook.

“This is only one kind of question. There’s reading comprehension and logical reasoning too. Those tend to be less obvious in their information.”

Magnus shook his head,

“Okay, if you can handle doing that for four hours without losing your mind, you’re already on another level.”

Charles scoffed.

“Now  _ you’re _ just trying to make me feel better.”

“Yeah. Is it working?”

He rolled his eyes,

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks.”

Charles tucked his notebook back into his pocket.

“What was the work you needed to get away from?”

Magnus waved his hand. It felt silly to think about that now.

“Just that paper I was telling you about. Not a big deal.”

“Oh,” Charles hesitated. “Do you want me to take a look at it for you? Before you turn it in.”

“Uh…” Magnus stared down at his feet. Logically, he did know that he should be okay with Charles reading his essay. After all, he wasn’t the one grading him. But if he truly came across as stupid as he felt, the stakes were much higher with Charles reading it.

“I mean, if you’re sure.” He kept his gaze trained away from Charles. “It’s still rough. I mean, it’s done. But...I’m still tweaking it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I’d like to take a look at it.”

“Okay,” Magnus took a deep breath. “I can show it to you when we get back.”

…

Magnus regretted that decision immediately. The moment Charles sat down at the computer to read his essay, he began pacing back and forth behind him. Oh god, why did he let him read it while he was still in the room?

“Remember, it’s just a rough draft,” he tried to explain. “I might add some more information later. If you see something you don’t like, that’s probably why. Also I was very hungover when I wrote some of it, so go easy on me. Or don’t, I mean, I want your honest feedback. But don’t-”

“Magnus.”

He stopped pacing.

“What is it?”

“I can’t concentrate on reading when you’re doing that.”

“Oh,” He shifted back and forth on his feet before turning to leave. “I’ll go back to my room. Don’t start reading until I’m out!”

Magnus closed his bedroom door and collapsed down on his bed. The knowledge that Charles, or anyone, was reading his writing in the next room over was causing his heart rate to spike. Did he fix the sloppy wording in the final paragraph? Oh fuck, he didn’t. Hopefully Charles wouldn’t notice.

He picked his guitar up and began absentmindedly strumming to himself, hopefully not too loud so he wouldn’t distract Charles from reading his garbage writing.

Nope! He wasn’t going to think about that.

Magnus allowed his mind to get lost in the music, until he heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Magnus?”

Oh, shit. Was he done already? Either he quit halfway through, or his writing was so basic that it was barely a challenge to get through.

“Yeah, uh, one sec.” He set his guitar down and stood up.

Charles slowly stepped into the room,

“I finished it.”

“Yeah?” Magnus squirmed where he stood. Damn it, was Charles prolonging this experience on purpose?

“I have some notes.”

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Charles pulled out a legal pad.

“Shit,” Magnus raked his hand through his hair. “It’s so bad you had to take  _ notes?” _

“What? No, it helps me think.” Charles flipped through the pages of his notes. That’s right -  _ multiple _ pages. Yep, that was proof. He hated it.

Magnus glanced over his shoulder, wondering if it was possible to casually make a run for it.

“Here we go.” Charles landed on the desired page. “Overall, I think you did an excellent job.”

“Oh, thanks. So can we just leave it there-”

“ _ However _ , even though the content of your essay was well-researched and engaging, there were still some, uh, structural and organizational issues that I noticed. I wrote them down here, if you want to reference them.”

Charles handed Magnus the legal pad.

“Wait,” Magnus stared down at the notes in disbelief. “That’s it?”

Charles blinked,

“I’m sorry, did you want more thorough feedback? Because I can-”

“No!” Magnus stopped him before he could reach for the legal pad. “I mean, you thought it was...good?”

Charles nodded,

“Aside from the structural problems, I think it’s great work.” He shrugged. “Take this for what it’s worth because I’ve been reading stale LSAT prep questions all day, but this is one of the most interesting things I’ve read in awhile. You’re a good writer. Honestly.”

Magnus continued to stare at Charles in stunned silence. If he was such a good writer, apparently, how come he couldn’t piece together the right words to say?

“So…” Charles glanced around the room. “I have to get back to studying, but if there’s anything else you want me to look over…”

Magnus shook his head, now out of his trance.

“No, this is fine.” He looked down and realized he was clutching the legal pad with a death grip. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Any time.” He turned to leave. “You can keep those notes, by the way.”

“Okay,” Magnus sat down at the foot of his bed, watching Charles leave and close the door behind him.

He turned his attention to the legal pad in his hands, flipping through the pages as he tried to decipher Charles’ notes. His handwriting was somehow orderly, but chaotic at the same time. Kind of like Charles himself.

Magnus turned to one of the pages of feedback and sighed.

Charles did notice the sloppy wording in the final paragraph.

…

Magnus thought his worries would be over when he finally turned that paper in, but no. Because then he had to handle the agonizing weeks waiting for his grade. Is this what school was going to feel like from then on? It was so much easier when he didn’t care.

He was sitting in the back of the classroom, feeding a pencil through the holes in his jacket sleeve when the professor stood at the front of the room with a stack of papers in her arms.

_ Shit _ .

“When I call your name, you can come up and get your essay.”

Magnus could feel his stomach twisting into knots. Why did he always choose to sit in the back of the classroom? It just made it a huge production whenever he had to go to the front.

One of the downsides of having a name so close to the center of the alphabet was that he had a lot of time to stew in his anxiety. He watched as students would slowly get out of their chairs when they were called on and he made sure to pay extra attention to their reactions. Most students remained stoic as they got their papers, but there were a few who showed visible excitement or heartbreak upon seeing their grades. No matter what his grade looked like, Magnus was not going to let himself react.

“Hammersmith.”

Magnus got up and made his way to the front of the room. “Don’t react” was repeating in his head over and over like a mantra. He didn’t allow himself to check the grade until he was back at his desk.

He turned the essay over, and his heart stopped.

Magnus would usually leave the second the class was dismissed, but this time he stuck around.

The professor’s desk was hidden behind a line of students, all waiting to discuss their grades. Magnus stood behind him, the essay crinkling under his tight grip.

When he finally came up to her desk, he realized he didn’t know what we planned on saying.

“How can I help you?”

“I…” His voice sounded so soft and weak, that he had to clear his throat and start over. “I think there was a mistake. With my grade.”

“That so?” She took the essay from Magnus’ hands, flipped through the pages, and handed it back to him. “If you want to dispute the grade, my office hours are on the syllabus.”

“I don’t…” he shook his head. “Just, forget it.”

“Okay, uh,” the professor frowned. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

“No, that was it.” Magnus started backing away from the desk before turning to leave. “I’m just going to go. Forget I said anything.”

“Alright, uh, I’ll see you in class.”

Magnus ran all the way back to his apartment, not stopping until he shut the door behind him.

Charles looked up from his book.

“Everything all right?”

Magnus collapsed against the wall, out of breath, and held out his paper.

“I got my grade back. For that essay.”

“Yeah?” Charles slowly sat up on the couch. “What did you get?”

“A 90,” he almost choked on the words. “I got a 90%.”

Charles looked at him sympathetically,

“Oh, Magnus. I’m sorry.”

Magnus glared at him,

“What?”

Charles blinked, clearly realizing that he picked the wrong response.

“I mean, uh,” he faltered. “Congratulations! That’s amazing.”

“Fuck off.”

“Wait, no, Magnus.” Charles stopped him before he could storm off to his room. “I’m serious. That’s incredible. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He slumped his shoulders. “I just hope this wasn’t a fluke.”

“It won’t be,” he patted him on the arm. “You’re just finally getting some recognition for your strengths.”

Magnus continued to stare blankly at the essay as Charles went to the kitchen. If this was truly one of his strengths, why did it take so much work for him to get there? To a place that, if Charles’ initial reaction was any indication, wasn’t that impressive to begin with.

He spent the rest of the evening on the couch while Charles was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Magnus planned on throwing on a movie or something, but instead he found himself reading over his professor’s feedback. It was an emotional rollercoaster, with each comment like “beautifully put!” or “I don’t understand this point” scribbled in the margins causing his self confidence to swing back and forth like a pendulum.

At the sound of him turning another page, Charles laughed from the kitchen,

“You’re really going through that, huh?”

“Hey! This is the first time a teacher wrote something on my work that wasn’t ‘see me after class’ or ‘this is concerning’. Let me have this.”

He turned to the final page. There was a paragraph of red ink written underneath the final paragraph.

_ Magnus, _

_ Your writing shows a clear understanding of the source material and your additional sources. Excellent use of voice and visual language. Your personality comes through your writing, while still working within the confines of an academic paper. For future papers, I would recommend focusing on organization and making sure your thesis is clearly defined. But overall, good job! _

Magnus’ breath hitched and the paper shook in his trembling hands.

The sound of Charles’ movements came to a stop.

“Magnus?”

“I’m fine,” he choked out. His eyes were starting to water too. Shit, this was humiliating.

He felt the couch dip as Charles sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

Magnus said nothing as he handed the essay back to Charles, open to the page with the note.

“Wow,” Charles muttered under his breath. “That’s great feedback.”

“I never had a teacher or a professor say anything to me like that before.” He buried his face in his hands. “She doesn’t think I’m hopeless.”

“Of course she doesn’t, and you have the work to back it up.”

Magnus shook his head,

“You don’t understand. I’ve been in school my entire life and I’m  _ just now _ figuring it out? When I’m a junior in college? I’m finally getting the hang of this, and it’s almost over.” He furiously wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, hoping Charles wouldn’t notice. “This doesn’t disprove anything about me.”

“Magnus,” Charles sighed. “You did great work, okay? Let yourself have this.”

Magnus scoffed,

“Not what I would have expected to hear from the guy who had a crisis over an LSAT prep test.”

“Yes, which is exactly why I don’t want to scrutinize yourself in that way. I’m exhausted all the time and you deserve to have a healthier relationship with your studies.” Charles shrugged. “And don’t worry about ‘just now’ figuring this out. There’s always grad school.”

“Come on,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Guys like me don’t go to grad school.”

“Guys like you don’t get accepted to grad school, or they don’t bother to apply?”

“Just…” Magnus groaned. “I got an A on one paper, okay? Don’t put all these ideas in my head.”

“Alright,” Charles hesitated. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“I don’t know, just stay here. Talk to me about something that’s not school-related. Oh, and I can cover for takeout for dinner this time.”

“Uh,” he frowned. “I was going to make dinner.”

“Yeah…” Magnus looked past Charles’ shoulder towards the kitchen. “I meant to tell you, I think something’s burning.”

“What?” Charles leapt off the couch and raced towards the kitchen. When he opened the oven, black smoke wafted out. 

Magnus watched in mild amusement as Charles tried swatting the smoke away from the smoke detector and towards the open window with a dishtowel.

“Feel free to help me!”

“Nah, looks like you got this figured out.”

When the worst of the smoke was gone, all that was left of Charles’ dinner attempt were the smouldering remains of some unidentifiable recipe lying on a baking sheet.

Charles stared at his creation, looking pensive with his hand to his chin, as if he was trying to come up with a way to make something edible out of it.

“Magnus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m taking you up on that takeout offer.”


	9. Chapter 9

Magnus somehow managed to survive the first semester of his junior year. He even bothered to show up for all of his classes. It did not come easy to him. Any assignment that required more than an hour of work tempted him to just give up and go back to his old ways. By the time December rolled around, he felt like he was struggling to stay afloat.

But the grades he received at the end of the term made it all worth it. All A’s and B’s. He almost collapsed to the floor right outside the student center. Everything was finally paying off. Now he just needed to keep that up for the next three semesters.

His first instinct was to tell Charles the good news, but his roommate was basically a nonpresence during finals. And even then, he wouldn’t engage with anyone until his grades were in. When the signs of life finally returned to Charles’ eyes, Magnus knew he was officially done with the semester as well.

“Welcome back,” Magnus greeted Charles as he stepped back into the apartment.

“Thank you,” he held up a small stack of envelopes and a few brochures. “I got the mail.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

Magnus folded his arms over the back of the couch, watching as Charles placed the mail down on the kitchen table.

“So,” he prompted. “How did you do?”

“I did fine.”

“Well, you’re not having a crisis, so that means you got straight A’s again, right?”

Charles’ slight smile told him everything he needed to know.

“So, uh, what about you?”

Magnus waved his hand in an attempt to seem humble.

“Ah, you know, all A’s and B’s. No big deal, except I’m a genius.”

“That’s incredible, congratulations.” Charles smiled. “You’ve earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did. But I still got a long way to go before I can call up my old teachers and gloat.” Magnus sighed and leaned back against the couch. “We still don’t know if I’ll even be able to graduate.”

“You will, don’t worry about it. Just take it one semester at a time.” He flipped through the mail and stopped when he reached the last envelope in the stack. “Magnus?”

“Hm?”

“Do you know anyone from Phoenix, Arizona?”

“No,” Magnus frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Charles held up the envelope,

“This one’s addressed to you.”

Charles passed the envelope to him and he turned it over in his hands. It was indeed addressed to him, but Magnus couldn’t recognize the handwriting. Who was Patricia Hudson from Phoenix, Arizona, and how did she know who he was? Even stranger, it felt like there was a card inside. He could feel his heart pounding as he tore open the envelope.

It was a card, which only answered one of Magnus’ numerous questions. A tasteful Christmas card with watercolor illustrations of poinsettias over an eggshell background. Magnus held his breath as he opened the card and read through the neat cursive handwriting inside.

_Magnus -_

_Seasons greetings! I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been wanting to get in contact with you for a while now, and with the Christmas season getting closer, I figured now would be the perfect time! My name is Patty. Your father and I have been seeing each other for a little over a year now. I know that this might be a lot to handle (it certainly was difficult breaking the news to my own children), but as things became more serious between me and your father, the more I wanted to reach out to you._

_I also know that you and your father haven’t spoken much, but the holidays are about new beginnings and connecting with family. You have our address and I included our phone number if you want to talk._

_Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!_

_Patty_

Magnus felt his throat start to close up as he read through the message over and over. 

The “family” photo that was included only intensified his reaction. Without it, Magnus could have dismissed the card as some bizarre (and elaborate) joke, but there was no denying it. The man in the photo was his father. He hadn’t seen his face since he left home. It was strange when Magnus thought back to how he always pictured his father. He was less of a man in his memories and more of this abstract, threatening presence who made his life hell. The photo forced him to face him as a human man, with facial features and everything. Anyone else who looked at the photo would probably just see a normal middle-aged man, but Magnus could already feel his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in.

Magnus guessed that the woman sitting next to him was Patty. She looked like the kind of woman who would send a Christmas card to her boyfriend’s disgraced son. Which is to say, she looked uncomfortably nice. Magnus didn’t trust people who could smile on camera so effortlessly. At least his father’s half-sneer (which he sadly inherited) felt more honest.

But on the bright side, his father was dating women closer to his own age now. It really was a fucking Christmas miracle.

There were kids in the photo too: a teenage girl and two boys around ten. Being able to bullshit enthusiasm in front of a camera must have been a genetic trait, because they all mirrored Patty’s aura perfectly.

However, Magnus felt his entire world come crashing down around him when he noticed the baby swaddled in his father’s arms.

Patty said she’d been seeing him for over a year.

Which meant…

Oh, fuck.

The card continued to haunt Magnus throughout the day. He kept it propped open on the kitchen table and he would find himself staring at it like it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“Do you think you’re going to call them?” Charles asked, breaking him out of one of his card-staring trances.

“I don’t know,” he dug his fingers through his hair. “I should, right? If I don’t, that will just feed into their image of me as some failure burnout. But if I do call and they realize what kind of person I am…”

Magnus sighed and let his head collapse against the table, sending the card toppling down.

“From what I’ve read, she seems nice.” Charles reassured him as he grabbed a pot from the oven. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

Magnus flipped the card over with his finger.

“She did sound like she wanted to build some kind of relationship.” He shook his head. “This isn’t right. I know my father. He’s not one for family, commitment, or fuckin’ Christmas photos. There is no way she doesn’t know what kind of man he is.”

“Maybe he changed?”

A burst of rage sparked inside him and he slapped his hand against the table.

“People don’t just change, okay? If people could just fix their bullshit like that, my mom wouldn’t still be in a fucking facility right now! How come she doesn’t get a second chance, but he does?”

When Charles didn’t respond, Magnus looked over his shoulder to see him staring at him with wide eyes and the pot clutched to his chest.

“Shit, I’m sorry, just…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want him to have changed. Because that would mean he waited until I was gone to do so.”

Charles set the pot down and touched him lightly on the shoulder.

“You’ve been doing just fine on your own. You don’t owe them a relationship if that’s not what you want.”

Magnus didn’t say anything. Instead, he just allowed Charles’ hand on his shoulder to ground him. His words kept repeating in his head. He knew that he didn’t _have_ to reconnect with his family, but he felt a sense of terror rising in his chest when he realized that he wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Was it morbid curiosity to see what his father was like in a domestic setting, or was it a genuine need to seek out that idealized family life he never had? Magnus didn’t know which answer terrified him more.

He finally found the ability to voice this conflict while he helped Charles make dinner. They were making some kind of potato-based soup. Charles found the vegetarian cookbook Magnus bought freshman year (and never used, because he lived in a dorm) and he was determined to try every recipe at least once.

“I mean, what’s the harm in calling?” Magnus asked as he furiously scrubbed the potatoes. “Aside from the psychological harm, of course. I should call, right? I should call.”

“If you’re sure.” Charles glanced down at Magnus’ hands. “You’re going to reduce that potato to ash, by the way.”

Magnus realized he had been scrubbing the same potato for about five minutes. He set it aside and shook the tension out of his raw fingers.

“And if I do call, I’ll be able to rub it in my dad’s face that _I_ was the first one in the family to get a college degree. Well, almost.” He shrugged. “Wish I could do that in person, just to see the look on his face.”

“Just start at one phone call.” Charles stretched his arm up, trying to reach a bowl on one of the higher cabinets. “If it doesn’t feel right, you can stop there.”

Magnus took a deep breath,

“Okay. I’ll call after dinner.” He watched in amusement as Charles continued to reach for the bowl. “Need some help with that?”

“I hate that you always put them up here.”

“What? If you could reach everything, you wouldn’t need me around.” He grabbed the bowl and placed it down on the counter.

Charles frowned,

“...thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He patted him on the back. “Glad to be of service.”

Dinner went by way too fast and then Magnus was faced with the reality of his decision. He kept prolonging it too, even spending extra time cleaning the kitchen afterwards. When there was nothing else he could do to put it off, he picked up the card.

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?” Charles asked from the couch.

“No, I mean…” Magnus sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I want you to be here with me, but I don’t want you to listen in, you know?”

Charles nodded,

“I’ll get my headphones.”

Magnus waited until he was situated with his cassette player and a book before he picked up the phone. He took a deep breath, flipped open the card, and dialed.

For a couple agonizing rings, there was no answer. Magnus considered giving up right there, until he heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

_“Hello?”_

Magnus almost forgot how to speak.

“Yes, uh, hello. This is Magnus. Hammersmith.” He squeezed his eyes shut and winced. He probably didn’t need to give his last name. How many Magnuses could she know? “You sent me that card.”

 _“Oh, Magnus!”_ She sounded happy to hear from him, at least, but her voice was all he had to go off of. _“I’m so glad you decided to call. I hope you were okay with the card. A phone call might have been easier, but I get corny around the holidays so I couldn’t help myself.”_

“No, it was nice. Thank you.” He stared down at the card and he had no trouble connecting the voice to the woman in the photo. “Does my dad know you wrote to me?”

 _“Yes, he knows I’ve been wanting to meet his son for a while.”_ Patty laughed. _“Probably didn’t think I’d actually do it.”_

“But he’s okay with this?”

 _“He’s your father,”_ she responded, in a way that did answer his question - but most likely not in the way she intended. _“But anyway, tell me about school. I hear you’re in college, that’s exciting! What are you studying?”_

It was not at all subtle that she was trying to change the topic. Part of him wanted to keep digging until his questions were answered, but he wasn’t ready for her to dislike him just yet.

“English.” He wound the cord around his fingers until the tips turned purple. “I’m an English major.”

 _“Oh, that’s fun!”_ Although it was clear that would have been her response regardless of his answer. _“What made you choose that?”_

Magnus glanced over his shoulder at Charles, who was still quietly reading to himself with his headphones on.

“It’s just what inspired me.”

_“What year are you?”_

“Just finished the first semester of my junior year.” He closed his eyes, praying that she didn’t care enough to realize that his age didn’t match up with that.

_“Congratulations! Any fun plans for break?”_

Magnus shrugged,

“My roommate is spending the holiday with his family, so I’m just going to stay on campus.” He clenched the cord tighter, wincing when he realized he’d only been talking about himself. “So, uh, what about you?”

 _Wow, way to sound genuine, Magnus._ He scolded himself.

_“No big plans. Just a quiet little Christmas with the family.”_

_Family._

“Oh.” Magnus didn’t know what else to say, but the lump forming in his throat seeped into his voice.

Patty must have noticed it too. Her silence said as much.

 _“Listen, um…”_ She began, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. _“I’d hate for you to spend the holidays alone…”_

Shit, now she was going to think he was manipulating her.

“It’s fine, it’s what I do every year.”

 _Shit!_ That sounded even _more_ manipulative!

 _“Well, if you get tired of that tradition…”_ She hesitated again. _“There’s a space for you here.”_

Magnus felt like the world slammed the brakes and he was being smacked against the dashboard.

“Really? Are you sure?” He glanced at the card. “Looks like you were already running out of room in the photo.”

To Magnus’ relief, Patty actually laughed.

_“But hey, there’s another reason right there. It would give you a chance to meet your half-brother.”_

She hit the emphasis on the “half” harder than she needed to.

“I don’t want to impose…” he trailed off.

 _“It’s not an imposition: you’re like fa-”_ She stopped herself. _“You are family.”_

“Okay.” He exhaled sharply. “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.”

_“You’re welcome. It was great hearing from you.”_

“Thanks, uh, you too.”

Magnus hung up the phone and he could already start to feel his knees giving out from under him.

Charles pulled his headphones off.

“So, uh, how did it go?”

“I think…” Magnus took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be spending Christmas with my family.”

…

Most college students under 21 would have jumped at the opportunity to have a roommate who could legally buy alcohol, but Charles always refused to take advantage of his situation. Something about being a “law-abiding citizen”.

So while Magnus sat on the stairs outside their apartment with a beer, Charles sat beside him with a mug of piping hot tea in his hands. Considering how cold it was, maybe he made the better decision.

“Do you think you’ll go?”

Magnus took a swig of beer, watching as the snowflakes gently drifted across the walkway.

“I don’t know. I mean, I shouldn’t, right? Spending break by myself seems like it will be so much better. But…” He sighed and shook his head. “What do you think I should do?”

“I can’t make that decision for you.”

“Come on, man! You decided my major for me, and that turned out to be the only good decision I made in college. I’m asking you to micromanage my life now. What would you do in my situation?”

Charles shrugged.

“I _am_ actually going home for break, so I guess that’s what I would do.”

“Hm,” Magnus frowned and took another swig. “I’m going.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned his head against the railing. “It feels like something I have to do. I need to see my dad again. Because-”

His voice caught in his throat.

“Because if I have just _one_ parent who turned out okay, then maybe I have a chance too.”

Charles stared down into his tea, not responding.

“Shit,” Magnus dug his fingers through his hair. “You think it’s a bad idea.”

Charles shook his head,

“No, it’s not that. I guess I’m just...worried about you.” He shrugged. “Going back to your family can be tough.”

“Ah,” He stared at Charles for a moment. “Are you nervous about going back?”

He sighed,

“No, because I know exactly what to expect. Everyone is going to be cold and emotionally-distant - except for my brother, who will say something offensive but no one will care. Then we will exchange in surface-level pleasantries, even though we’re all secretly miserable, but no one knows how to express it.” He shrugged and sipped at his tea. “An Offdensen family reunion is basically a corporate meeting.”

“That sounds like it sucks.”

“It does, but I know exactly _how_ it’s going to suck, so that makes it easier.”

Magnus tilted the beer bottle around in his hands, watching as the dim lights flashed against the green glass.

“I wish we could both stay here.”

“Me too, but family comes first.” He rolled his eyes and smiled. “And who knows, maybe you’ll like these family get-togethers.”

Magnus scoffed,

“As long as my dad’s still there, I don’t see that happening.”

They sat in silence for a while, just watching the snow as it drifted through the cool night air. Magnus looked over at Charles, his face dusted with a light pink from the cold. His brow was pinched in concentration, but Magnus didn’t know what he was concentrating on. It always looked like Charles was focusing on something. Sometimes he wished he could see into his mind, just to get a sense of what was capturing his attention. Knowing Charles, it was probably something beyond his understanding.

“Magnus?”

“Hm?”

“You have my family’s phone number, right?”

“Yeah,” he was basically the only person he called all summer.

“If something goes wrong - and I’m not saying it will - but if something happens, just call. Okay?”

“Okay.” Magnus smiled. “Thank you.”

“And, uh, I think what you’re doing is very brave.”

“I don’t know if I would call it ‘brave’. I mean, I’m going to Arizona in December. You’re going to _Maine_. That’s brave.”

Charles snorted,

“You know what I mean. Also, it’s only going to be 40°F.”

“ _Only?_ Shit, man, you lost perspective.”

Charles nudged him in the shoulder, but Magnus managed to block it.

“You know,” Magnus sighed, reclining against the stairs. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Miss what?”

“You know,” he shrugged. “Just sitting together, talking.”

“Winter break is only for two weeks.”

“I know, but…” He held the bottle tighter in his hand. “I meant after that. After college.”

“We can still do this after we graduate.”

“Really?” Magnus looked over at Charles. “You’d really want to hang out with someone like me when you’re some big-shot lawyer?”

“I’m going to be in law school for a while before that.”

“That still puts you several levels beyond me.”

Charles smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, we will still hang out. And you need to stop dismissing yourself. You’re doing fine.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah,” For the first time in the conversation, Charles looked back at him. “I really do.”


	10. Chapter 10

Magnus landed in Phoenix. The moment he stepped off the plane, it was like he entered another universe where the concept of winter never existed. He ended up having to remove his overcoat and carry it like an additional piece of luggage. Even though he was comfortable walking around in a light sweater, he still noticed people wearing down coats, parkas, and ski jackets. He assumed those were the locals.

As he made his way through the airport, Magnus had to wade through seas of people. Everywhere he looked, he saw the same interaction over and over. A group of family members would start waving and yelling when they saw someone exit the gate. Then there was a group hug, usually after both parties running towards each other. There would be tears. The traveller’s luggage would be distributed among the group, and they would leave together - reunited.

Magnus knew it was foolish of him to expect a greeting like that, especially since he knew he would have hated it. However, it made people-watching while he waited for his taxi rather monotonous. So to pass the time, he grabbed a brochure about Arizona from a dispenser near the payphone. There was a whole section about the Grand Canyon, which Magnus was fairly certain wasn’t in Phoenix. However, the brochure did have some interesting cactus facts.

_ “The spines on the cactus are actually its leaves.” _

Fascinating! Who needs a loving familial support system when these cactus facts could provide all the support he needed?

When the taxi picked him up, he asked the driver to stop at a record store on the way to Patty’s house. In all the turmoil about reuniting with his (maybe) family, Magnus forgot it was Christmas. 

Magnus was fairly certain he hadn’t celebrated Christmas since living with his mom. Christmases with her weren’t the most lavish or picturesque, but it was the one time of year she seemed to be able to focus on something that wasn’t harmful in some way. Yes, maybe it was hard to sleep when because she insisted on blasting Christmas records during all hours of the night. And yes, maybe the following months were always difficult because she would impulsively burn through all of the money they had (and even more money they didn’t) on presents and decorations. And, okay, fine, maybe it was weird that she actually got him coal one year. Apparently this was her way of “punishing” him for getting into Black Sabbath. According to other kids his age, this wasn’t something anyone else’s parents actually did. Yes, it wasn’t an easy time of year, but it was something she was enthusiastic for, and there was something infectious about that.

When he lived with his father, Magnus was told about a different Christmas tradition. The tradition where a child will stay with another family during the holiday, which represented how Mary and Joseph had to seek out shelter during the very first Christmas, as well as the importance of community and generosity during the season.

Magnus later realized that the true meaning of the tradition was that his father was sick of his bullshit, and he wanted him out of the house.

He stopped celebrating Christmas the moment he gained any independence. Any nostalgia he had for the holiday was tainted by reality, so it wasn’t a difficult loss. Charles didn’t seem much like a Christmas guy either. In fact, during their first winter together, their dorm was the only one in their hall that didn’t have some kind of wreath or decoration on their door.

So when someone at the airport wished him a “Merry Christmas”, Magnus realized:

Oh, fuck, this trip wasn’t just about him confronting his emotionally-distant father and attempting to create something of a family unit.

Then the next thought:

And they’re probably going to expect him to bring something.

Which is why Magnus had the cab stop at the record store. He wasn’t going to even attempt to find something for Patty and her children - he knew nothing about them and he figured he was just going to mess it up somehow anyway. But he was fairly certain he could find something for his father. It was less of a Christmas gift, and more of a peace offering.

Magnus stood over the shelves, flipping through records as the memories infected his mind. Most of his memories from when his parents were still together were absent. Not fuzzy or vague, but gone. Like a portion of his past was scooped out of his brain with a melon baller. But for whatever reason, this one managed to survive. 

He was seven-years-old, lying on the living room floor in their Colorado home, watching as his father flipped through his extensive record collection. Every memory he had of his father that wasn’t completely horrible involved music in some way. His first guitar lessons, listening to his father recount stories of the different records he’d accumulated, the first concert they went to together (Jefferson Airplane, 1974 in San Francisco). As long as music was involved, he knew everything was going to be okay.

But during this one memory, he could recall his father telling him about how he used to have a copy of Captain Beefheart’s debut record,  _ Safe as Milk,  _ only for it to get damaged during a move and he never bothered to replace it.

It wasn’t a piece of lost media by any means and it was likely that his father already replaced it by now, but Magnus was determined to find a copy. As recognition that things weren’t always bad between them. As a way to tell his father, “Yes, I remember you, but this is the only memory I want to keep.”

He found it, and Magnus almost laughed in relief. The record looked strangely innocuous, considering the weight it held. The album art just depicted a fish eye lens of the band, standing in what looked like a wooden cage. But just by looking at it, Magnus could relive the feeling of the living room carpet against his skin, the sound of the blues rock pounding through his ears, and the rare sense of peace washing over him.

If he was going to rebuild his family from anything, he wanted it to be this record.

Magnus bought the record, got back in the cab, and gave the driver the address to Patty’s house.

The cab stopped in front of a row of identical-looking beige houses with simple desert landscaping. Magnus double-checked the address in the card a few times before he felt confident enough to step outside. He stood in the gravel walkway and held the record tighter against his chest. The plain brown paper he had it wrapped in crinkled under his grip. His duffel bag and guitar case hung heavy from his shoulders. He took a deep breath and made his way to the door.

He knocked on the steel security door before noticing the doorbell, which he rang as well without thinking. That was probably overkill, and he regretted that decision immediately. He could hear movement inside the house along with a scattering of different voices. Was it too late to turn around and leave? Magnus looked over his shoulder at the street. The cab was long gone - he wasn’t going anywhere.

The door unlocked with a click and Magnus’ entire body went cold. Standing behind the steel mesh security door, was his father. Staring at him through the rusted metal, Magnus wondered if this was how scuba divers felt when they would delve into shark-infested waters from the safety of a cage.

About a dozen different facial expressions flashed across his father’s weathered face as he looked him over. None of them were good and they all lead Magnus to the same conclusion:

Oh shit, he did not know he was visiting.

“Magnus.”

“Hey, uh, dad,” He could feel his bag slipping off of his shoulder. “Happy holidays.”

…

Magnus didn’t remember going inside, but the next thing he knew he was sitting on a sofa as three sets of eyes stared at him

The eyes belonged to Patty’s children. Two young twin boys - Mark and Scott, and an older girl - Sandy. He somehow picked up on their names during his trance, but he still couldn’t tell the twins apart. They both had unkempt mousy brown hair and a dense burst of freckles across their noses. And they were both staring at Magnus like he was an ant they were burning under a magnifying glass - which he could definitely picture them doing.

Sandy was sitting across from him in a leather armchair that was way too big for her. Her hair was also unkempt like her younger brothers’, but it looked like this was a deliberate style decision. Unlike her brothers’ fascinated expressions, Sandy stared at Magnus like she was bored with his very existence.

He could hear his father and Patty’s muffled voices in the kitchen behind him, but he was trying to block that out.

“So, Melik is your dad?” Sandy was the first to break the tense silence, even though she couldn’t have sounded less interested.

“Yep.” Magnus drummed his hands against his knees as he stared at the carpet. He let the silence start to fester again. That is, until one of the twins (still didn’t know which one) spoke up,

“Why’d ya go to jail?”

That actually made Magnus look up from the floor.

“What?”

“Melik said you went to jail,” said either Scott or Mark.

“Yeah,” either Mark or Scott piped in. “And that’s why we’ve never seen you before.”

Magnus didn’t know how to respond, but fortunately he didn’t have to.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sandy sighed. “Melik never said he went to jail. He said he  _ should _ be in jail.”

“Thanks for clarifying…” Magnus muttered under his breath.

The chatter in the kitchen stopped and Patty stepped into the living room. She smiled at Magnus like she was pushing all of her facial muscles to their absolute limits.

“Magnus!” She held her hands to her chest. “You actually came.”

“Yeah,” Magnus squirmed in his seat. The fact that he didn’t know where his father was at that moment was not helping his anxiety. “I was, uh, in the area.”

“That’s nice,” she gestured to the screen door which led out to the back patio. “Can I borrow you for a minute? Just wanted to have a little chat.”

“Oh. Okay, uh, sure,” Magnus stood up and followed her outside.

The moment Patty slid the glass door shut, she turned to face him - her smile never wavered.

“Listen, so I think there might have been a bit of a miscommunication,” she said delicately. “We didn’t expect you to actually show up this year.”

With her smile combined with the sugary tone of her words, Magnus almost didn’t register what she said. But the moment he did, he could feel his body grow cold.

“Oh,” He didn’t choose to respond consciously, it was more like the sound escaped his chest as the humiliation washed over him.

“We would have loved to have you here,” Patty continued. “But for future reference, you should give more of a heads up. Because now I have another mouth to feed-”

“I’ll go,” Magnus blurted out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I just thought-”

“Oh no, honey, you don’t have to leave.” She touched his arm and he flinched. “I’m not going to turn you away like that. Just, give a heads up next time, okay?”

_ Next time. _ Magnus had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded.

“Okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Themes of child abuse/neglect  
> Drug use (weed)  
> Underage drug use (weed)  
> Mild sexual harassment

Magnus had been in countless situations where he suspected that no one else wanted him there.

It was another experience entirely to _know_ that no one wanted him there. Even his present, with its plain brown wrapping paper looked out of place among the colorfully-wrapped presents under the tree.

With his father on the couch watching some silent film on the television, Magnus moved to the living room floor. Patty was making a phone call in another room, so fortunately he was spared further interactions with her, but he was still surrounded by her children.

Sandy was slumped over her chair with a magazine while the twins were chasing each other around the living room with action figures. Neither of them seemed to be paying Magnus any attention, which was fine, but there was another problem he was just now coming face-to-face with.

The baby. Or, maybe the toddler? Magnus didn’t know what the proper term was. The kid was able to sit up on his own to some extent, so “baby” didn’t feel right.

As his anxiety continued to ferment inside his head, Magnus engaged in an intense staring contest with this toddler. His brother. Well, _half-_ brother. Tavit, or David. He heard both being used interchangeably. Magnus wondered what inspired his father to use an Armenian name this time. It was frustrating enough that the name _Magnus_ was unusual among his peers (especially when some of those peers would come up with rather uncreative nicknames for him based on that first syllable), but then he would look to his family tree and feel out of place there as well.

So in that aspect, this kid lucked out. He had both a name that could connect him to his family, and a westernized version that could help him survive the playground. Maybe his father was just making up for past mistakes.

 _Oh._ That thought struck Magnus more than it should have.

He kept staring at this kid. Would things be different for him? If he was anything like Magnus, was there anything inside him that was already wrong? Was this kid already broken, or did Magnus become broken over time?

Tavit babbled to himself as he flopped a stuffed zebra back and forth in his chubby hands and started gnawing on one of the legs, blissfully unaware that his new brother was having an existential crisis while staring at him.

Charles was right. Taking those psychology classes ruined his ability to perceive the world.

When Patty came out of the kitchen, Sandy jumped out of her chair.

“Mom, can you drive me to the mall? _Please?_ ”

“Sandy, I’m sorry,” she responded with that same pouty face she gave Magnus out on the patio. “You know I have a lot to get done.”

Sandy groaned and turned her attention to Magnus’ father.

“So can-”

“No,” He responded immediately, not breaking his gaze from the film. “I’m not going to the mall this close to Christmas.”

“Come on!” She whined. “I still need to get some gifts!”

“Well, then you should have bought them _before_ the 23rd.” Patty pointed out.

Sandy turned around in a half-spin-half stomp before her attention focused on Magnus.

_Oh no._

“Can Magnus take me?”

Patty’s smile twitched and even his father managed to look up from the television.

“Oh, we shouldn’t impose-”

“Why?” Sandy interrupted. “It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

Magnus wanted to object, but it was a fair point.

“I can do it.” He shrugged. “I need to pick up some things too.”

Being the chaperone to a teenage girl wasn’t exactly how Magnus wanted to spend his winter break, but at least it would get him out of the house.

Patty glanced at his father, as if the two were having a silent conversation about how they could possibly object.

“If you’re sure…” she drew the last syllable out.

“I really don’t mind.” Magnus made sure he wasn’t in front of the television screen before standing up.

Patty nodded slowly,

“Okay. But just the mall, and nowhere else. Don’t pick anyone else up either. Also, be back by 5.”

“Yes, mother.” Sandy sighed and rolled her eyes.

Magnus’ father waited until his movie was over before he got up to hand him the car keys. 

Before Magnus could take them, his father gripped his wrist.

“They’re putting a lot of trust in you.” He said in a quiet rumble so only Magnus could hear. “Don’t mess it up.”

Magnus nodded, any words he could have said dying in his throat. The hand on his wrist was louder than any voice.

His father squeezed his wrist hard, before letting go and allowing Magnus to leave with the keys.

Magnus didn’t stop to catch his breath until the car door was closed. He let his forehead rest against the fur-covered steering wheel while he waited for Sandy to get situated next to her.

“Okay, so are you going to, like, be weird this whole time?”

Magnus tilted his head up to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head,

“Whatever, just drive.”

Magnus pulled out of the garage and drove. The streets of Phoenix seemed to be pretty straight-forward, so he was able to drive without thinking too hard. Aside from Sandy’s occasional directions, he could focus on the lit-up houses, the straight roads, the shockingly blue sky, oh, and the knowledge that he was imposing on a perfectly normal family by assuming he belonged with them.

“Hey, Magnus?” Sandy said at one point, yelling over the Teena Marie cassette she put on.

“Yeah?”

“So, uh, why are you here?”

“Your mom invited me.” He paused. “That wasn’t a diss. She really did.”

“Okay, but did she?”

Magnus gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I don’t know, okay? I thought she did. She sent me a card, and when I called her she made it sound like she wanted me to come over.”

“And so you did? Just like that?”

Magnus sighed,

“Alright, fine. I guess women don’t randomly invite their boyfriend’s distant son over for Christmas.”

“Uh...boyfriend?” Sandy shook her head. “Melik is my step-dad.”

Magnus almost slammed the brakes.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “They got married in ‘83. That was before I got my braces off, so don’t look at the pictures.”

“They’re married?”

“Duh. Mom wouldn’t have a baby under wedlock, trust me.” She waved her hand in his peripheral vision, which was making an already difficult car ride even more challenging. “Are you going to be okay, or are you going to be weird again?”

“They’re married…” he repeated. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t know, maybe she felt bad for not inviting you to the wedding.” She kicked her feet up against the glove compartment. “Come on, everything’s gonna be closed by the time we get there.”

Magnus followed her orders, but his stomach was twisting itself into knots the entire time.

Originally, Magnus volunteered to drive Sandy to the mall so he could get some fresh air and relax his mind.

Turns out, a shopping mall on December 23rd was not the place to do that.

Magnus had been to gigs that were more orderly and peaceful. Shoppers were packed into every square inch of the place, scrambling with their purchases and constantly yelling over each other. He couldn’t go two steps without getting accidentally elbowed in the face or shoulder-checked by someone rushing towards another store. At least the constant noise meant he couldn’t hear himself think.

Sandy tugged on Magnus’ sleeve.

“Let’s go to the food court. I’m hungry.”

Magnus did a double-take.

“Thought you had to go shopping.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry _now_. Let’s go.”

And so, Magnus was dragged to the food court before he could protest further. 

He stood in the center of the chaos scanning his eyes over the different restaurant options. After digging through his pocket, he pulled out his wallet. With the amount of cash on him he could probably afford to buy... _one_ large pretzel for Sandy. He didn’t know if he was expected to pay for her, but it seemed like the proper thing to do, almost like a way to make up for this entire disaster of a family reunion.

“Okay, tell me what you want.” He turned towards Sandy and his body froze.

Sandy was gone.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Magnus almost dropped his wallet. In the constantly-shifting sea of people, Sandy was nowhere to be seen.

Magnus could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He lost her. Oh fuck, he lost her. If he couldn’t find her-

He gripped his wrist, squeezing with all of his strength until he was able to snap out of his panic and run.

“Sandy!” Magnus yelled as loud as it could, but it barely made a dent against the noise of the crowds. He elbowed his way out of the food court, continuing to shout her name whenever he had enough air in his lungs in between the hyperventilating.

What was he supposed to do? Go to mall security? What if it was too late? He already fucked up in the worst way he possibly could. How could he-

Magnus stopped. Near the entrance of the food court was a set of glass doors that lead out to the parking garage. Through the glass, Magnus saw Sandy standing in front of a concrete planter. However, any relief Magnus felt quickly evaporated when he saw the man she was talking to.

It was hard to guess an exact age from the distance, but he was clearly closer to Magnus’ age than hers. If he saw him in any of his classes, he probably wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

The man stood just inches away from Sandy while she appeared to be shrinking away, her head lowered and her arms folded. The more she inched away, the closer he got. Magnus felt his body tense up.

The man touched her on the arm in a slow, calculated motion.

_Okay, fuck this._

Magnus grabbed a plastic tray from the food court and charged towards the parking garage.

Neither Sandy nor the man had any time to react before Magnus kicked the doors open.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

“What are you-”

Magnus smacked the tray against the man’s face, sending him tumbling backwards into the planter, barely dodging one of the cacti.

The man scrambled back to his feet, brushing gravel out of his hair, only for Magnus to continue wailing on him with the plastic tray.

“Ow! Okay,” He held up his arms to shield himself from the blows. “The fuck is your problem?”

“Don’t touch her!” Magnus continued pushing him further away with the tray. “Get out!”

The man turned on his heels and ran, disappearing into the parking garage.

Magnus watched him leave and waited until he could no longer see him, before setting the tray down.

“Are you okay?”

Sandy shoved Magnus, almost pushing him into the planter as well.

“What is _wrong_ with you?!”

“Who was that guy?”

“I don’t need to tell you.”

“Actually, you do. Because your parents trusted me to look out for you. And you do not get to run off like that.” He stood up and crossed his arms. “Now, who was that?”

“Just some guy, okay?” She stared down at the pavement.

“Just some guy,” Magnus sighed and shook his head. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“Fine, whatever.”

…

The trip back was less awkward than the drive there, but that was only because Magnus’ residual anger overpowered any feelings of discomfort. Sandy was sitting in the passenger’s seat with her arms crossed and her posture deliberately twisted away from him. The radio was off, so he could hear her frustrated exhales.

“I thought you were cool.”

“Why, because I have long hair and distressed jeans? That was your first mistake. Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“What _happened_ is I was talking to this guy, and then you attacked him with a tray!”

“Okay, fair. Follow up question: who was that guy and why was he talking to you like that?”

Sandy kicked the dashboard and huffed.

“He just works at the mall, okay? We hang out whenever I drop by.” She slumped her shoulders. “And before you say anything, he’s not a creep, alright? He actually _likes_ me. Until you attacked him with a tray. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” On one hand, Magnus was relieved that he didn’t misread the situation. But on the other hand, this only made his anger intensify. “Is this the real reason why you wanted to go to the mall?”

“So what if it was? You’re not my mom. You’re barely my brother.”

Magnus gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to stop her words from getting under his skin, but he could still feel their weight clenching around his chest.

“I saw your body language, and you looked really uncomfortable.”

“Ugh, you really don’t know anything.” She groaned. “I have to play hard to get, or else he’ll think I’m a slut.”

“He’ll think…” Magnus sighed and shook his head. “Just…be careful around guys like that, okay?”

“Why do you even care so much? It was none of your business.”

Magnus paused. For a moment, he was tempted to dish out some generic platitude about how he “sees her as family” or “always makes an effort to help those in need”, but he knew neither would sound genuine coming out of his mouth. Sandy would be able to see right through it too - teenagers were top-tier bullshit detectors. And one thing Magnus remembered about being a teenager, was that he wished more adults would just be honest with him.

He sighed, and pulled over to the side of the road. There was no way he could keep this conversation going while driving.

“Because I’ve been in your situation before. With guys, I mean.”

She gave him a weird look,

“Wait, are you-”

“That’s a talk for a later day.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the driver’s side window. “But I remember what it was like, how it was almost thrilling when older guys paid attention to you. I thought it was because they saw me as an adult, but no. If they wanted an adult, they could find one. They just saw someone they could have power over.”

“Power?” Sandy’s voice was much softer than before. “What do you mean?”

“You name it,” He shrugged. “Maybe it was because they could get me drugs. Maybe it was because they could provide me with attention that I wasn’t receiving at home. Maybe it was because I was a vulnerable, newly-out teenager and I thought they were the best I could hope for.”

Magnus rubbed his temples.

“And looking back at it, I just wish that another adult, who could recognize what was going on, would have stepped in and kept me safe.”

“With a tray?”

Magnus cracked a small smile.

“Yeah. At least.” He looked back at the passenger’s seat. Sandy wasn’t turned away from him anymore, so that was something. “I know...I know I’m not family to any of you yet. But I want to try to earn my place here. And part of that is looking out for one another, okay?”

Sandy nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

“Which is why I…” He grimaced, still in disbelief over what he was about to say next. “I think you should tell your mom about what happened.”

“What?” She snapped her gaze up and glared at him. “I can’t do that! She’ll ground me ‘til college!”

“I know it sucks and usually I’d advocate for lying to your parents, but I think she can help you way more than I can.” He sagged his shoulders and stared back out the window. “You have a good setup. There are people in your life who can take care of you, more than any sleazy mall guy can.”

Sandy slumped further in her seat and kicked her feet up on the dashboard.

“This sucks.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to being a teenager.”

“So when I’m not a teenager, I can expect my life to be great like yours?”

“...shut up.”

Sandy actually laughed and Magnus couldn’t help but smile in return. In that moment, a glimmer of hope sparked in his brain. It no longer felt implausible that he could find that supportive family unit that he never got to have.

“Now that we got the sappy shit out of the way-” he paused. “Sorry, sappy _stuff_.”

“Dude, I don’t fucking care. You can cuss around me.”

Magnus laughed,

“Alright. Let’s get you back to your fuckin’ house.”

“Fuck yeah!”

…

This time, Magnus was able to step back into the house with relative ease. His father wasn’t in the living room anymore, which certainly helped. But more importantly, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest amount of pride in himself. It felt like this was his first major test as a functional family member, and so far he was nailing it.

Patty was hanging tinsel snowflakes around the living room while the twins were still running around chasing each other. Apparently the entire time Magnus and Sandy were gone, they didn’t tire themselves out at all. Tavit was plopped on the floor, watching his two older brothers with wide-eyed fascination.

At the sound of Magnus setting the car keys down on the end table, Patty looked over her shoulder.

“You’re back already?”

“Yeah, the place was packed.” Sandy shrugged her coat off and hung it up near the door. “We decided to just come home.”

She glanced up at Magnus with obvious hesitation in her eyes. He nodded reassuringly at her.

“Mom?” Her voice was small. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Oh,” Patty paused for a moment, considering her options, then she set down her decorations. “Of course. Magnus, do you mind watching the boys?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” Compared to what he went through with Sandy, he was fairly sure he could handle whatever his half/step-brothers could throw at him.

Sandy shot Magnus one last uncertain look over her shoulder before disappearing with her mother into another room.

The twins looked like they could entertain themselves, so he was more concerned about Tavit. He didn’t know a lot about babies, but he did know that they were very good at accidentally eating things that could kill them. To avoid any unpleasant situations like that, Magnus scooped the toddler up in his arms.

Okay, way harder than it looked. Toddlers typically have limbs, which can make it difficult to maneuver them into a comfortable position. Magnus could only get a decent hold on him when he stopped flailing. Also, why did he have to be so heavy? This baby was practically made out of dark matter. Oh, and of course there was the lingering fear that one wrong movement would result in the end of another human being’s short life. Considering that humans were social animals, one would think that their offspring would have evolved to be easier to carry.

When Tavit seemed to relax in his arms, Magnus sighed in relief and began pacing around the living room. Even though it was 70 degrees outside, the inside of the suburban Arizona home felt like Christmas. Most of the lighting came from the tree, which radiated a warm glow around the room. The tree itself was decorated with a mix of different styles of ornaments, none of which seemed to go together but it oddly worked. Magnus continued making his way around the room, until he found them.

The wedding photos.

They were hanging on the wall with other framed family photos, which included his father for some reason. Magnus knew he shouldn’t look at them, that they would only hurt him, but he couldn’t look away. The pain of his parents’ divorce had long healed. They had been apart longer than they’d been together. And Magnus had seen his father with other women before.

But it was surreal to see his father genuinely happy with someone else.

He kept staring at the photos. Their first dance. Them laughing together near the buffet table. Patty fixing one of her son’s ties while Magnus’ father looked on in admiration. The photos told the story of a man who had moved on with his life, and Magnus was an unfortunate chapter from his past coming back to haunt him.

Magnus was thrown out of his thoughts when he felt something tugging at his hair. He looked down to see Tavit gripping some of the curly strands between his stubby fingers and pulling at them curiously.

“You good?”

Tavit put the strands in his mouth and Magnus cringed, flipping his hair out of the way.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Tavit’s face turned red and his lip started to quiver.

“Oh god,” Magnus muttered under his breath. “Please don’t start crying. I don’t know how to handle that-”

Too late. His brother started wailing at a volume that would have caused serious damage to Magnus’ earlobes if they weren’t damaged enough already.

“Okay, okay, fine.” He moved his head so his hair was back in Tavit’s reach. “Eat my hair. Just calm down.”

That seemed to work, and soon Tavit went back to gnawing on his hair while Magnus tried to astral-project out of his body.

That wasn’t going to happen. Not when one of the twins slammed a plastic sword against his legs.

“Ow!” Magnus managed to keep a steady hold on his brother as he tried to regain his balance. “You got me in the _shins_!”

“Your guard was down!” The offending twin prepared another attack, but Magnus ducked out of the way.

“Dude, not while I’m carrying your brother!”

A door down the hall opened and Magnus turned his focus away from the boys.

Sandy returned to the living room, her posture hunched forward as she seemed to be deliberately avoiding Magnus’ eye contact.

Patty was standing near the edge of the room and something was different. Magnus couldn’t place it, but he couldn’t escape the sense of coldness when he looked at her.

“Magnus,” Whatever vibe he picked up on in her body language definitely came through in her voice. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, okay,” Magnus looked around for a safe place to set down the toddler.

“I can take him.” Sandy offered, still avoiding eye contact.

The toddler was handed off and Magnus tried not to think about how slimy part of his hair was as he followed Patty into the hall.

When they were out of earshot from the living room, Patty turned to him and placed her hands on her hips.

“I hope we don’t have to have this conversation again.”

Magnus frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” She glared at him accusingly. “I don’t know or care what you do in your free time, but you will not bring that up around my daughter.”

“I, uh, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember talking to my daughter about drugs and homosexuality when she was alone in the car with you? That just slipped your mind?”

Magnus stared at her, mouth agape, until he managed to find the words to respond.

“That’s...that’s what she told you?”

“Like I said, I don’t care about what you do in your free time. But there are some subjects that she should hear about from her parents. Not you.”

“That’s not what happened!”

“Okay, then what did?”

Magnus froze. It was so tempting to tell her about the situation at the mall, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t his experience to share.

“We were listening to the radio,” he mumbled at last. “I was just telling her about the music scene in the 70s.”

She clearly didn’t believe him, but it was also clear that she made up her mind about that before they even had this conversation.

“Well, if you’re going to stay here, I’d ask that you behave properly around my family.”

“Yes.” Magnus kept his stare focused on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He stepped back into the living room. Sandy was sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest. 

When she looked up at him, Magnus mouthed “ _what the fuck?”_ She lowered her head back down.

…

They had dinner as a family.

It was awkward.

Magnus kept his head lowered the entire time. Looking around the table would only result in an unpleasant moment, like a ping pong ball getting knocked around between different uncomfortable social interactions. He couldn’t look at Patty without feeling humiliated. He couldn’t look at Sandy without feeling hurt. He couldn’t look at his father without having to face a whole history of unpleasant moments. He couldn’t even look at his twin step-brothers, because they would fling their food at his face whenever he glanced in their direction.

He thought his toddler half-brother would be a safe option, but apparently Tavit was still bitter about the one time Magnus didn’t let him chew on his hair. He must have inherited the Hammersmith scowl, because he had it down to an art.

It was obvious that everyone else could sense the unease as well. The stretches of silence were as dense as fog. The conversations never delved deeper than basic pleasantries and Magnus never took part.

He only broke one of the silences when Patty placed a piece of grilled chicken on his plate.

“Oh, I don’t-” The words escaped automatically like they had countless times before, but he stopped himself when he remembered where he was.

“Is something the matter?”

They were all staring at him now.

“It’s just…” Shit, there was no way to say this without feeling embarrassed. “I’m a vegetarian.”

He half-mumbled the last part, hoping that they wouldn’t notice.

Patty sighed and set the plate of chicken down. The clatter startled Magnus more than it should have.

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t have any other meal options for you.”

Magnus stared at his plate, which only had some steamed carrots and a dinner roll. Compared to the other plates on the table, it looked especially bare.

“It’s fine.” Magnus shrugged. “I can eat what’s here.”

“I don’t want you to go without protein.”

“I said, it’s fine.”

“Why don’t you like chicken?” One of the twins chimed in.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t eat meat.”

“Why not?” The other twin asked.

“I just don’t, okay?”

“You barely have anything on your plate.” Patty continued. “Now I feel like I’m not feeding you enough.”

“You’re fine. I’ve eaten less than this in college.”

“That’s not good…” Sandy added.

“Listen,” Magnus took a deep breath. “I appreciate the concern, but I promise. It’s _fine_. Let’s move on.”

They didn’t move on.

“It’s just one dinner.”

“If you told me, I could have prepared something for you.”

“The chicken is really good!”

“It’s _barely_ meat. It’s not like it’s a cow or anything.”

“Just try a little. You’ll like it.”

Their voices kept chipping away at his patience until his anger boiled over and he clasped his hands over his ears.

“Shut up! I said I don’t eat meat!”

Everyone at the table stared at him, their eyes wide and their mouths agape. When Magnus’ heart rate started to settle, that feeling of shame washed over him again.

His father, who hadn’t spoken this entire time, reached his hand across the table. Magnus shielded himself out of instinct, but lowered his arms when he realized he was just reaching for his plate.

Everyone watched in silence as Magnus’ father returned the contents of his plate back to their respective platters, then placed the empty plate back down in front of Magnus.

“You eat the food we provide you,” His voice wasn’t loud, but it still shook Magnus to his core. “Or not at all.”

Magnus stared down at his empty plate and nodded.

…

He spent the rest of the evening outside, sitting near the concrete wall that separated the backyard from the rest of the desert. As the sun went down, the air became more like that familiar, crisp coolness that Magnus had grown accustomed to. It made him think back to that last night he and Charles spent sitting out on the stairs in front of their apartment and he felt a pang in his chest. For the first time since leaving for college, he felt truly trapped. Trapped in a state he didn’t know, with a family who didn’t like him, and the only person in the world he wanted to talk to was on the other side of the country. And maybe he was feeling just as trapped as he did.

Someone was walking towards him and Magnus tensed up.

“Aren’t you cold?” Sandy asked, her hands buried in her coat pockets.

“It’s, like, 60 degrees.”

“Yeah?”

Magnus turned his head away from her, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.

She didn’t.

“Okay, you’re being weird again.”

“Sorry I’m not a joy to be around after you threw me under the bus.”

Sandy let out an exasperated sigh.

“What did you want me to do? There was no way she was going to be cool with the truth! And unlike you, I’ll have to stay here for the next 3 years and deal with her! You get to leave!”

Magnus scoffed,

“I’ll have to now, because of you.”

“Alright, jeez, I’m sorry. Anyway, you wanna get high?”

Magnus did a double-take.

“What?”

Sandy reached into her coat and pulled out a little plastic bag with some joints in it.

“That’s why I came out here. You’re cool, right?”

“Are you insane? You can’t get high out here!” He dug his fingers through his hair. “Go inside and flush that down the toilet before anyone notices!”

Sandy groaned.

“Ugh, you’re straight edge? Just my luck.”

“I’m not straight edge, but if your mom catches you with weed, who do you think she’s going to blame?”

“Dude, I get high all the time and I’ve never been caught. It’s the only way to survive in this household.”

She did have a point.

Magnus let his head lean back against the rough concrete wall.

“You sure your mom won’t notice the smoke?”

“Even if my mom _did_ know what weed smells like, our next door neighbor is a total wastoid, so we could just blame him and she’d believe us.”

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. He faced this disaster of a day sober long enough. He earned this.

“Fine.”

It wasn’t exactly instant relief, but the weed at least made it feel like his skull was no longer squeezing the life out of his brain. He stood next to Sandy on a boulder in the back yard so they could prop their arms up on top of the wall.

“You’re still not mad at me, are you?” Sandy asked at one point.

Magnus exhaled over the side of the wall in the way she instructed.

“I am.”

“Come on.” She groaned. “Okay, I admit. It was shitty, but-”

“You not only threw me under the bus, but you essentially outed me to your mom.” Magnus shook his head and grit his teeth around his joint. “If you want to be treated like an adult so badly, you need to take responsibility like one.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. My mom, she just, she has a way of getting under your skin.” She sighed and took a hit off her own joint. “I’m just trying to survive here, man. But you’re right. What I did sucked.”

“Glad to hear you admit it. I’m still pissed.”

Magnus stared out over the desert landscape. Behind the rows of identical suburban homes was nothing but untamed Arizona wilderness. Even though the sun had just set, the navy blue sky was still illuminated by traces of magenta and orange from the brilliant sunset. The only specks of life he could see growing out of the dry, cracked earth were thorny-looking leafless bushes and a wide variety of cacti. Whenever he exhaled, the night air still felt crisp and clean behind the cloud of weed smoke. 

The view reminded Magnus that there was a world outside his own inner turmoil. There were the saguaro cacti, which could live up to 125 years (thanks, cactus facts brochure). Whatever would happen with Magnus, the cacti would still be there. The desert would still be there. Even if the inside of his mind was loud and chaotic, the real world still continued on - full of little quiet moments like this.

Sometimes, it can be comforting to feel unremarkable.

“Hello?” Sandy shook Magnus’ arm, jostling him out of his thoughts. “You’re being weird again.”

“Oh no, you gave me pot and now I’m _spacing out_. How dare I.”

“Yeah, especially when I’m trying to talk to you.”

“You know what weed does, right?”

Sandy rolled her eyes,

“ _Anyway_ , I was asking you how long you’re going to be here.”

Magnus shrugged,

“I was going to stay for all of winter break, but that was before I knew that no one wanted me here.” He sighed. “So I might just hit the road after new years.”

“Aw, that sucks. My friends always leave town for the holidays, so I never get to hang out with anyone my age this time of year.”

“Okay, you are nowhere near close to my age. You’re, what, twelve? Thirteen?”

“I’m fifteen, jackass.”

“Oh, wow, big difference. My mistake.”

She swatted him on the arm and Magnus chuckled.

“God, when I was fifteen…” Magnus stared up at the deep night sky. “I think I was still living with dad.”

“Really?” She frowned and twiddled the joint around between her fingers. “Was dad always...you know, _like that?”_

Magnus wasn’t cold before, but now an icy shock was shooting up his spine. Even the weed wasn’t enough to stop it from feeling like his ribcage was closing in around his heart and lungs.

“What do you mean?” His voice was small and shaky and he had to struggle to get it out. The longer he stayed in that house, the more he felt that he couldn’t pretend that his past experiences never happened. He wanted to talk to someone. He wanted solidarity. He wanted someone to look him in the eye and say “no, you’re not crazy”.

But not like this.

“Just kinda…” she brought the joint to her mouth while she tried to think of the right word. “Embarrassing?”

Magnus was bracing himself for the worst, but he didn’t anticipate this.

“Embarrassing?”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “Like, my mom dated other guys before, but they never tried to be my dad, you know? I mean, I know that he’s my step-dad now, but even before. Do you know how humiliating it is to have your _mom’s boyfriend_ drive you and your two little brothers to school? I kept telling him that I’m fine with taking the bus, but he was like ‘but the bus isn’t safe’. He is _so_ far-removed from reality. My friends saw me!”

Magnus could barely register his sense of relief as a lump began rising in his throat.

“He used to pack lunches for us too,” Sandy continued. “Remember, I’m fifteen, because apparently he forgot. I’m talking full-on sack lunches with notes. _Notes!_ ”

Magnus felt cold again, but for a different reason.

“Wait, you’re joking, right?”

“Ugh, I wish. I _finally_ convinced him to just let me buy the school lunch, but it wasn’t easy. He’s just a sappy guy, I guess.”

Magnus dug his nails into the rough concrete and he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Suddenly, the quiet serenity of the desert was no longer calming. In fact, he could barely notice it anymore. All he could focus on the confusion, hurt, and anger chipping away at his mind.

“But I mean, he won’t do this forever, right? I have to grow out of it at some point.” Sandy must have noticed something, because her voice was much less boisterous. “Like, does he do that with you?”

“No.” Magnus responded plainly. “He doesn’t.”

“Okay.” Sandy looked away from him, and thankfully she didn’t say anything further.

Magnus didn’t respond either, because he couldn’t stop thinking. There was no way she was right about his father. There was no way the man who constantly “forgot” to pick him up from school would offer to give a ride to Sandy and her brothers. His father was the kind of man who would encourage Magnus to ask his friends for money to buy lunches, instead of packing his own with lovingly-crafted handwritten notes. What would a nice, inspirational note from his father even look like?

_“Math comes naturally to musicians. If you’re really serious about music, there’s no way you would be failing this class.”_

_“You don’t want to turn out like your mother, do you?”_

_“I’m just preparing you for the real world.”_

The rage in his chest was bubbling over and resurfacing as grief. If Sandy was telling the truth, all this did was confirm his darkest suspicions. His father wasn’t some heartless monster. He was capable of loving someone. He just wasn’t capable of loving _him._

No, he wasn’t going to let this get to him. Why did he care what his father thought of him? It’s not like he cared about him in return. His dad actually hated him? Good. Then the feeling was mutual.

So, he wasn’t going to think about that. He was just going to get high, enjoy the night, and think about those neat cactus facts he read about.

Cacti are so used to going without water, that they thrive under those harsh conditions. _Cool._ The roots of the cactus are also pretty shallow, because they need to absorb as much water as they can. _Fascinating._ The spines of the cactus are modified leaves that evolved to protect the cactus from danger. _Wow, badass._

Magnus hadn’t thought a lot about them before, but cacti were actually pretty cool. Enduring the elements alone, adapting to whatever environment they were in, not letting anything get close to them-

“Are you crying?”

Magnus was thrown out of his thoughts, and in a horrifying moment he realized that his face was wet with tears.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?” Sandy asked, although she was clearly uncomfortable. “Do you...you wanna talk about it?”

Magnus pressed his head against his arms. He knew he couldn’t say anything without his tears morphing into open sobbing, but he managed to choke out,

“I was thinking about cacti.”

Sandy stared down at her joint,

“What’s in this…”

“Forget about it.” Magnus abandoned his joint on top of the wall and hopped off the boulder. “I’m going inside.”

“Dude, if you’re going to freak out, it’s best you do so in here.”

Objectively, Magnus knew she was right. But he couldn’t stay out there. He couldn’t stay in the house. As he got closer to the patio doors, his careful walking turned into a full-on sprint. This was all a mistake. This trip, this plan, all of it. He needed to go home. To his real home. He needed to talk to someone who actually knew him.

Magnus only had the light from the Christmas tree to help him navigate through the empty living room. His breathing was ragged, interrupted by his choked sobs, which he was constantly trying to swallow down. When he pulled the phone from the wall, his fingers shook as he dialed the number. The same number he repeated to himself over and over on the plane. He promised he wouldn’t use it unless it was an emergency. This felt like it counted.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Magnus sank down to the floor, clutching the phone to his ear.

Then,

“Offdensen residence.”

It wasn’t Charles. Instead, an older, much sterner voice answered the phone.

Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Who’s calling?” The man sounded annoyed and exhausted, which was expected. It had to be close to midnight in Portland.

Magnus still couldn’t bring himself to speak. The words _“is Charles there?”_ were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them.

The man mumbled something about prank callers, then there was nothing. The call was disconnected, and Magnus was alone again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Mild/implied physical abuse  
> Emotional abuse  
> Neglect

The longer the holiday went on, the more Magnus found himself staying out of spite, rather than some genuine need to connect with his family.

Christmas Eve sucked. Magnus spent most of the day trying to stay out of the family’s way. He did have to go to church with them. Apparently they did that now. And he did have to wear his father’s suit because he didn’t have one of his own. The suit was too baggy in some places and too short in others. With how stressful the evening was, Magnus found a small comfort in knowing that he barely looked like his father when he put on that suit.

Christmas Day also sucked. It was impossible for Magnus to escape feeling like he was imposing on a normal family’s holiday traditions. Magnus tried to use this feeling to his advantage, and for a while it actually worked. When he stepped out of himself and pretended that he was a stranger observing the daily lives of a normal suburban family, the prospect of surviving the next week didn’t seem that implausible. There were no emotions at stake. He was watching a man playfully ruffle his step-son’s hair as they sat near the Christmas tree together. Just a pleasant moment between a father and his son, nothing more. There was no reason for Magnus to feel a longing pain in his chest as he watched them. If the past days had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t know either of these people.

But something happened on that Christmas Day that made Magnus realize that he couldn’t be as unattached as he wanted. It happened during the gift exchange around the tree. That moment was uncomfortable enough, since Magnus didn’t bring gifts for everyone, and in turn no one had any gifts for him. He spent the evening doing what he usually did around the family: sit quietly and try to remain unnoticed.

That was, until he had to give his father his gift - the only gift he brought. He wanted it to be a simple interaction, with all the emotional significance of someone returning a library book they didn’t actually read.

This is what he expected as he handed the plainly-wrapped package to his father. His father tore open the brown paper wrapping and something flashed across his previously neutral face. A smile.

 _“Safe as Milk?”_ He freed the record from the rest of the paper.

“Yeah,” Magnus shrugged, staring down at the carpet. “You talked about it a lot growing up. Thought I’d, you know, get it for you.”

“I thought you already had that one,” Patty asked, her smile betraying her words.

His father shook his head,

“I have his other records, but not this one.” He turned the record around in his hands, and even made a show of letting the kids look at the album art.

Magnus could feel Patty staring at him, but he stopped caring when his father looked back at him.

“Thank you, Magnus.”

Magnus nodded and he felt his chest tighten.

If he was truly so unattached from his family, then why was that exactly what he needed to hear?

…

All this time, Magnus barely ate.

The first dinner left him with nothing but a sense of shame whenever he tried to eat with the family. It didn’t help that Patty always seemed to forget that Magnus was a vegetarian, right until it was time to sit down for dinner. She’d gasp and self flagellate until Magnus felt compelled to apologize to her. He’d eat the sides, usually some kind of steamed vegetable or carb option. But the “you have hardly anything on your plate!” comments made this not worth it.

Magnus had been in similar situations before, and in those cases he could just leave and eat somewhere else. But that could only work in areas that had anything within walking distance. And the suburbs of Phoenix were not kind to those who didn’t have access to a car.

So he mostly subsisted on side dishes (with an _extra_ side dish of guilt), and whatever snack foods Patty would leave out during the day.

He could feel the effects weighing on him. He could see himself growing more irritable. His attempt to step outside of himself and remain passive was proving to be difficult when he couldn’t tear his mind away from how worn out he was.

Maybe it would make a funny story for Charles later. He imagined their reunion would involve a lot of debates over who had the most difficult winter break, and he was excited to finally beat Charles at something for once.

…

The holiday became more of an endurance test than anything else. The days blurred into each other. It helped that his plan appeared to be working. The family seemed to stop noticing him, which was fine by Magnus. It was like he was some kind of weird specter that they learned to just deal with. He’d take up space, sleep on their couch, eat their pretzels, but that was it. If anything, it gave Magnus a sense of peace.

However, he couldn't help but think back to the gift he gave his father. How that one moment felt like it was carrying him through. Was he so desperate for approval that he was satisfied with settling for scraps? And, more importantly, when was the other shoe going to drop. Because it always would.

It dropped on December 30th.

The family decided to take notice of the intrusive, gangly specter haunting their house when he was asked to help take down the Christmas decorations outside. One of the downsides of being tall was that people always asked you to do this kind of shit.

And, so, Magnus found himself sitting on top of a ladder, feeding strings of Christmas lights down to his father who was standing below.

Oh, right. His father was helping.

Magnus unwound a section of lights off of the rusted hook drilled in underneath the roof. His father was _right there_ , right below him. And Magnus was vulnerable on top of that ladder. How easy would it be for his father to yank on the Christmas lights and send Magnus toppling down? Would he do that? Magnus didn’t know. He certainly didn’t expect his father to adapt to suburban family life so seamlessly, so who knows what that man was capable of anymore.

He unhooked another section of lights. It felt weird being so quiet. To the outside observer, nothing was wrong. Just a pleasant moment between a father and his son, nothing more. But Magnus had to say something. This was part of his plan, right? The “finding his family” part of his plan was obviously not working out. But the part where he finally confronts his father? That could still happen.

If only he got this opportunity when he wasn’t sitting on a ladder.

“Hey, uh,” he began, his tone was embarrassingly shaky compared to how it sounded in his power fantasies. “I’m almost done with junior year.”

“That so?” His father seemed more focused on winding the lights up into a tight coil.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m doing really well too. I’ll be graduating soon.”

“Hmm,” Was the barely-audible response. “I bet you’re proud of yourself.”

He sounded accusatory, as if Magnus had confessed to doing something wrong.

Magnus removed the next section of lights, this time hard enough to almost yank the hook out with them.

“Yes, I am proud, actually. Aren’t you?”

“Would that be enough to finally get you back on track?”

Magnus had to brace one hand on the roof to steady himself.

“What?”

“If I say I’m proud, will that be enough for you to start getting your act together?”

“My act…” Magnus could feel himself getting lightheaded. “I _am_ getting my act together!”

“Really? How? Because since you’ve arrived, you sure haven’t acted like it.”

“I have an apartment, I have a job, I’m friends with a pre-law student, and I’m actually trying in school this time! I really care!”

“Okay, good job. Is that what you wanted?”

Magnus stared down at him, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“What...what did I do wrong?” His voice escaped before he had a chance to think it through. It was like the question had been a part of him for so many years and he just now found the words to finally ask it. “Why can’t you just be proud of me?”

His father turned his attention back to the coil of lights in his hands.

“If you were four years younger, maybe. But everything you told me is what you _should_ be doing already. I’m not going to give you a trophy for reaching the bare minimum.”

Magnus’ breath caught in his throat.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you _like me?_ ” He didn’t even cringe at how harsh his voice cracked.

“I’m your _parent_.” He responded flatly. “My job isn’t to ‘like’ you. My job is to make sure you stay alive and you don’t grow up to become some kind of psycho killer. That’s it. You have friends, right? You don’t need me to like you.”

Magnus could feel the lump growing heavier in his throat. He couldn’t climb down the ladder and escape without facing his father. He was trapped. Hypothetically he could jump onto the roof and make a run for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He was completely frozen.

The fear and shame when mixed with his exhaustion morphed into rage. A tiny simmering rage he’d been trying to control throughout the entire holiday.

“You know what?” He clenched his fists tighter around the string of lights. “I don’t have to prove myself to you. Because in a couple years, _one_ of us will have a college degree.”

“Oh! I see how it is. You traveled all this way just to gloat, huh?”

His father yanked at the lights, not enough to topple Magnus over, but enough for them to scrape across the insides of his palms.

“Do you know what I was doing when I was your age? I was raising _you_. I didn’t have the luxury of getting a college degree!”

“You were _raising_ me?” Magnus' voice shook under the weight of his nerves. “You were never around! I had to raise myself!”

“So you were the one paying the bills this entire time? You were the one who had to work two full-time jobs to support a child? That was you?”

“You weren’t working.” Magnus scoffed. He was lying to him, he had to be. “I remember, you were always out late.”

His father shook his head in disbelief.

“ _Out late?!_ I don’t know what kind of wild story you came up with, but no, I was not. I was working to support _you_ . You get to have fun in your twenties now, _because_ I didn’t.”

He dropped the coil of lights on the ground and turned away.

“Since you did such a good job ‘raising yourself’, you can finish putting away the lights by yourself too.”

Magnus could feel his body growing cold. He didn’t want to believe him. He wanted to continue to believe the story he crafted when he was a lonely child. It made it easier to justify his anger. He couldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t let him have the upper hand. Not without Magnus being able to tell him everything he imagined saying.

“You know what I think?!” Magnus called out before his father could turn the corner to storm back into the house. “I think you treat me like this because it’s the only way you can take out your anger towards mom!”

That stopped him right in his tracks, and suddenly Magnus had to face the reality of this power fantasy.

He turned around.

“Your mother,” he began, his tone stern and deadly. “Had her problems, but she _tried_. She tried so hard it broke her mind. Don’t compare yourself to her.”

The next sound Magnus heard was the slamming of the front door, and the anxious pounding of his own heart.

…

Magnus was relieved when he stepped back into the living room and saw that it was empty. His step-siblings were occupied with the new toys they got for Christmas, and Patty and his father were nowhere to be seen. His father was probably telling her about the Christmas lights incident. That didn’t help to calm Magnus’ nerves.

His luggage was stashed under a table in the living room, near the couch he slept on. Just a duffle bag and his guitar case. He hadn’t played since arriving in Phoenix. It just felt wrong to try.

He made his way over to his bag and froze. Something was wrong.

Magnus had moved around a lot in his life and he had a lot of experience living out of a single suitcase. Which meant he had grown a keen eye for this:

Being able to tell that someone had gone through your stuff.

To the untrained eye, it wasn’t obvious. The buckles and zippers hadn’t been undone. The bag itself hadn’t been moved out from under the table. But Magnus could still tell. Something was off.

Magnus dropped to his knees and pulled the bag out from under the table. When he yanked the zipper open and tried to assess the damage, it didn’t look like anything had been taken out or moved at all. He dug through the layers of clothes and books when,

_Oh no._

The knife was gone.

Magnus was now throwing the contents of his bag around the room. He hadn’t moved the knife Charles gave him, he knew he hadn’t. But it was gone. He nearly tore his duffle bag apart by the seams, even checking pockets it couldn’t possibly fit. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Make sure you clean this up after you’re done.”

Magnus turned around to see Patty carefully stepping through the piles of clothes strewn around the room.

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, then got up to start gathering up his belongings. “I’m just looking for something.”

“Oh, are you talking about the _weapon_ you brought into my house?”

Magnus almost dropped the bundle of clothes he was carrying.

“You went through my stuff?”

“That’s _not_ the issue here.” She crossed her arms. “I found marijuana in Sandy’s room, so of course I wanted to know where she got it from.”

Magnus took a step backwards, nearly stumbling over the clutter on the floor in the process.

“And Sandy told you that _I_ was the one who gave it to her?”

“No, but I can put two and two together.”

“I don’t have any drugs on me!”

“No, but you have a _knife?_ ” She gestured at his open duffle bag. “Why on earth would you need a knife like that, and more importantly, why would you bring that into _my_ house around _my_ children?!”

“I wasn’t going to take it out, I just- I-”

“We opened our home up to you and allowed you to stay, Magnus,” Patty continued. “But a lot of your behavior has been inappropriate. I’d like to think that we’ve been more accepting than we should have been, but this is crossing the line.”

“So, what? You want me to leave?!” The moment the words were out in the open, an intense wave of dread washed over Magnus because he had just opened the door to get turned away again. But in the midst of that dread was a tiny glimmer of relief. This was it. He had an escape.

Patty frowned,

“Why? Do you want to go? Because you were the first one to bring up leaving, not me.”

Magnus’ hands tightened around the bundle of clothes.

“I’m not leaving without the knife.” He made a point to keep his tone as level as possible. “It was a gift from a friend and it means a lot to me. Please, just give it back, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

She shook her head.

“I gave the knife to your father, and he hid it so it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

The clothes fell from his grip. The knife -- _Charles’_ knife could be anywhere, and only his father knew where it was. This was it. The culmination of going without meals, remaining unnoticed, and being forced to observe the supportive family dynamics he never got to have. He could feel all of his efforts crumbling around him.

“You can’t do that!” The words exploded out of him. “You can’t take away the one thing I have after treating me like this!”

Patty backed away from him, as if she had just enraged a wild animal.

“Treating you like what, exactly?” She prompted, although she was clearly shaken from his sudden outburst. “Not turning you away when you show up unannounced? Letting you stay here for an entire week? Not immediately kicking you out after you behaved inappropriately around my daughter?”

“I told you, I didn’t-”

“We have been nothing but patient with you, Magnus.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “Your father was right…”

There were a thousand words Magnus wanted to scream, but that single sentence silenced all of them. He swallowed heavily and began picking his belongings up off of the floor.

“I’ll leave tonight.”

“If that’s really what you want, then feel free.”

…

If it weren’t for the knife, he would have fled from the house the moment he finished packing up his duffel bag. But he was definitely not going to let himself lose it and he certainly wasn’t going to leave a piece of his new life with his old one. If anything good came from this trip, it was finally knowing for certain that there was nothing to be gained from rebuilding a relationship with his family.

But he couldn’t even focus on that.

Because he needed to find that knife.

Fortunately, he knew where to start looking. Considering that his father didn’t change _all_ of his habits, of course.

He waited until nightfall then crept into the garage. A dim bulb on the ceiling was the only source he had as he searched through the cardboard boxes pushed up against the walls. Mostly random tools, holiday decorations, and broken pieces of furniture. Nothing like what he was looking for. He pulled a plastic milk crate out from underneath a worktable and used it to reach the boxes on the higher shelves. One of which clearly contained a large bottle of laundry detergent.

Perfect.

When he brought the box down to his level, he sighed in relief when he confirmed that the laundry detergent bottle was empty. More importantly, the bottom had been sliced off. Magnus lifted the bottle, and sure enough, underneath was a wad of cash, some photos, and his knife.

Magnus grabbed the knife before even considering the other objects. Just running his thumb across the smooth leather of the scabbard was enough to momentarily settle his nerves. In that moment, he was back home - his real home.

He did take a moment to investigate the other items. He had no idea why his father always hid objects like this, but honestly, Magnus knew he would have picked up the habit himself if he could associate it with anyone else. His father always had a stash and it was always hidden under some kind of nondescript container with the bottom removed.

Of course, he pocketed some of the cash. It’s probably what his father would have expected him to do anyway. That should have been the end of it, but he couldn’t help himself. He stared at the photos.

One of them showed his mother. Seeing her caused a shock to run up his spine. When was the last time he looked at her face? Like his father, his mother only appeared in his memories as some abstract concept of a person. His mother was even more vague in his memories. The last time he saw her, he was twelve-years-old. Law enforcement found out that she had violated the restraining order and transported Magnus across state lines. After that she faded from the forefront of his mind.

But looking at the photo, he was forced to see her as a person again. With her dark brown eyes that were always half-hidden behind heavy eyelids, her curly brown hair she always kept up in a tight knot, the way she always moved her hands around when she talked. Even in the photo, there was a slight blurring effect around her hands as she was moving them away from her face. The photo was taken outside of the office she used to work at. She was sitting on the edge of a fountain, laughing with someone off-camera. Magnus didn’t know the context for the photo. The only thing he remembered was that other people tended to refer to this era of his mother’s life as being from when she was “better”. Magnus never liked that description. Maybe she seemed better when she was working, when her life followed a predictable daily schedule, but Magnus could remember what she had to come home to every day. She didn’t “snap” one day, as those people also liked to phrase it. She was eroded over time.

The other photo surprised Magnus even more. It was of him, taken on picture day when he was 7 or 8. Shit, posing for photos never came naturally to him, huh? He had a bewildered look on his face, as if he was just told that he was sitting in front of a camera incorrectly - which he probably was. His hair was short, coming out of his head more like a “puff” rather than waves. Half of it was flatter than the other, obviously from some teacher or photographer trying in vain to push it down against his skull. Magnus kept examining the photo for the smallest of details. If anyone who didn’t know him were to look at the photo, would they be able to tell that something was wrong? Or did he just look like a normal school kid? 

Magnus placed the bottle back in the box and returned it to its spot on the shelf. He left the photo of his mother, but he stuffed the photo of himself into his pocket.

…

He returned to the living room, careful to keep his steps close to the walls to avoid the floor creaking beneath his feet. With his steady movements, he was able to slide his bags out from underneath the table. This was it. He was leaving. Even though he didn’t know what his plan was, it still felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

But just when he was about to head for the door, he heard hushed voices from the hallway. Specifically, the voices of Patty and his father. Magnus couldn’t help himself, and he got as close as he could and pressed his ear to the wall.

“...I didn’t want to think badly of him, because he’s your son. But…”

He heard Patty sigh.

“It’s in your nature to help everyone.” His father responded. “But some people can’t be helped, and Magnus has too much of his mother in him.”

Magnus wanted to pull his head away from the wall, but a sickening part of his psyche wanted him to stay.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have reached out to him if I knew the extent…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I tried, I really did.”

“I know, and I wish he could see that. But he’s selfish.”

“You should have heard him when he found out about the knife. I mean, I hate to say it, but he sounded crazy! I was scared.”

“He doesn’t have to be part of our lives. If he doesn’t change his behavior, he’s going to end up like his mother, or in jail, or dead. But that’s on him - not you. You have no obligation to take care of him. You gave him plenty of chances, and he chose not to take them.”

“Was Magnus always like this?”

Magnus couldn’t take it anymore. Whatever his father’s answer was, he didn’t want to hear it. He threw himself away from the wall and ran towards the kitchen. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to be sick.

He placed a hand against the edge of the counter as a dry sob escaped him, like a desperate attempt to feel something. The sensation hurt, like it had to scrape its way out of his chest. 

His breathing was ragged in his chest as he grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets. He just needed water. Once his nerves were settled, he’d finally be able to leave.

But with his shaking hands, he couldn’t get a decent grip.

The glass slipped out of his hands and shattered onto the floor.

Magnus froze in fear as he stared down at the shards. There was no way they didn’t hear that. He could feel the lump rising in his throat as the horror overtook his mind.

But then he realized, in that moment when the glass slipped out of his fingers, the only thing he could hear was the sound of glass against linoleum. He wasn’t thinking about the anxiety of the holiday. He wasn’t thinking about his family. He wasn’t thinking about his father. Breaking the glass provided him with a brief moment of peace. And the moment that wore off, he was right back to where he was before, with his anxious thoughts clouding his brain.

He needed to chase that feeling again.

Magnus grabbed another glass, blinked away his tears, and chucked it as hard as he could over the counter and against the living room wall. 

As he predicted, the sound of shattering glass pierced through his anxieties. 

It was just what he needed, but he needed more.

He grabbed a plate from the cabinet and smashed it on the ground.

He ran into the living room and flipped the coffee table over.

He unsheathed his knife and destroyed the pillows on the couch, before pushing that over as well.

Magnus could no longer hold back his tears. Every emotion he had been suppressing since he stepped foot in that fucking house was unleashed as he destroyed it.

He stopped when he reached the family photos on the wall. There was nothing he wanted more than to destroy those as well, but despite everything, he stopped and stared at them. The people in those photos, they were happy. They were a good family. And Magnus was the monster who was destroying it. Despite all of his agonizing, his planning, his power fantasies, Magnus only succeeded at proving everyone that they were right about him.

There was a horrified gasp behind him and Magnus turned around.

The entire family was there. Patty, with a wailing Tavit in her arms, was trying to keep the rest of her children behind her. The twins were staring at him with a look of unrestrained fear he hadn’t yet seen on their faces. Sandy was hiding behind her mother along with her brothers, her face pale and her hands clasped over her mouth.

His father was standing in front of them as he stared at Magnus with an expression he had not seen in years.

Magnus’ instincts told him to run, but he couldn’t move. Even as his father was advancing towards him. He was much taller than his father now, and he had a weapon. So why couldn’t he move?

Everything that happened next occurred in a series of bursts, as if Magnus’ life was a film and some of the frames had been cut out.

His father was getting closer.

Then Magnus was on the floor with the side of his face pressed against the carpet.

He went frozen and tried to focus his eyes on something, as he learned to. But the only thing he could focus on were the horrified faces of his distant family. Even through his tear-blurred vision, he could see the expressions on their faces.

Magnus’ wrists were going numb from his father restraining them behind his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to get worse, then he heard a voice hiss in his ear,

“Get out of my house.”

His wrists were freed. His father stepped away. But Magnus still took a moment to lie on the floor before pushing himself up.

Magnus made a point to avoid eye contact with anyone else, but he could feel their intense gazes as he grabbed his bags and hoisted them over his shoulders. The side of his face still burned from being pressed against the rough carpet.

He thought that the sound of that security door closing behind him would bring him peace, but Magnus could still feel the walls closing in around him.

With no sense of where to go, Magnus ran along the sidewalk, his bags smacking against his legs as he did so. The lit-up houses blurred past him as he ran into the night. The neighborhood was a labyrinth of identical beige houses Magnus thought he would never escape from, until he finally reached a major highway.

Magnus took a moment to catch his breath before he continued walking. Cars would zoom past him, but no one seemed to pay him much attention. As he walked along an overpass, he leaned his head against the chain link fence and closed his eyes. Even through his eyelids, he could see the lights of the cars below him. He could hear the sounds of the night and the city. It was enough for Magnus to realize that he was free. Even though he was standing on an overpass in a city he didn’t know, with no means of transportation, Magnus had never felt safer since arriving in Phoenix.

He still had no idea where he was going, but he kept walking. December in Phoenix was never a big deal to him before, but Magnus felt actually cold for the first time in a week. 

The walking helped. He walked past the strip malls and parking garages, all closed for the night. The city was so much more widespread than the college town he had grown accustomed to, but there was something comforting about this. Because there were so many lives going on around him, no one would notice his going on alongside theirs.

Magnus lost track of how long he had been walking. It was still dark, and the comfort he once felt was starting to fade away. He really was alone. He couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t by surrounding himself with other people. It was the last day of the year, and he was alone. He clutched his bags tighter around his torso and continued walking.

One of the only places he saw was a small liquor store on the corner. 

Magnus didn’t take offence at the cashier’s confused look when he threw the door open.

“Can I get a pack of Marlboros?”

The cashier nodded and grabbed a pack from the shelf behind him and slapped it down on the counter. Magnus paid for the cigarettes using the money from his father’s stash, then slipped a ten dollar bill into the cashier’s tip jar.

The cashier looked even more bewildered at this, but he didn’t question him.

“Hey, uh, do you have a phone I could use?” Magnus stared down at the cigarettes in his hand as he asked. “I just need to call.”

The cashier nodded, then reached under the counter and pulled out a rather grimy-looking telephone. Magnus thanked him, then dialed the number he’d been yearning to call for days.

A groggy, but stern voice picked up.

_“Who is this?”_

“Is Charles there?” Magnus blurted the words out before his nerves could get the better of him.

_“I don’t know who this is, but it’s four o’ clock in the morning and-”_

“Please,” Magnus turned his shoulders away from the cashier as he pleaded into the phone. “Please just let me talk to Charles.”

_“If this is really so important, you can call him back in-”_

There was a shuffling on the other end, combined with some muffled voices, then-

_“Magnus?”_

Magnus’ heart skipped a beat and he felt the tears start to well up again.

“Charlie?” He managed to choke out.

_“Magnus, is everything okay?”_

“I-” Magnus forced back another dry sob as he lowered his voice. “I miss you.”

_“I miss you too, are you okay?”_

“I just…” he clutched the phone tighter. “You need to come get me. I can’t stay here.”

There was a pause.

_“Magnus, I can’t go to Phoenix.”_

“Charles, please.” God, he hated how desperate he sounded. “You told me to call you if anything happened and...something happened. Please, don’t abandon me now.”

_“I’m not abandoning you, I-”_

“If you can’t come down here, can I come to you?”

Charles sighed,

 _“Magnus, I don’t think…”_ Another sigh, and then a longer pause. _“Are you safe now? Where are you calling from?”_

“I’m calling from a liquor store. I think I’m okay now.”

_“Can you give me the number?”_

Magnus held the phone to his chest as he asked the cashier for the number. After he wrote it down on the back of a receipt, Magnus dictated it to Charles.

 _“Okay…”_ Charles muttered as he finished writing down the number. _“Stay there and I’ll get back to you.”_

“Thank you.” Magnus didn’t allow himself to feel relieved, not yet. “Talk to you soon?”

Hanging up was one of the hardest things he had to do. Waiting for Charles to call back was even harder.

It was just him and the cashier in the store. A tiny television set behind the counter was playing some old recorded baseball game, which Magnus tried to bring himself to pay attention to. Even if it wasn’t on a grainy screen the size of a slice of bread, he imagined he wouldn’t have found it that interesting.

He didn’t exchange any words with the cashier either, but he would occasionally drop another bill into the tip jar. It seemed like the fair thing to do.

When the phone eventually rang, the cashier picked it up first, then handed it to Magnus.

“Hello?”

_“I talked to a travel agent and I got you a flight to Portland. It leaves at 3:55, Mountain Time. Can you make it?”_

The phone almost slipped out of Magnus’ hands.

“Yes-yes! I can make it. I know this is short notice, and I promise I’ll pay you back-”

_“My brother let me use his frequent-flyer miles - don’t worry about it. Can you write down the information?”_

Magnus jotted down the flight info Charles gave him underneath the phone number.

“Okay.” Magnus took a deep breath. “Thank you so much.”

_“It’s nothing. See you in a few hours.”_

“Yeah. See you.”

Magnus hung up, and a sense of peace washed over him. He grabbed the receipt with the flight information and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he pulled out the wad of cash, mentally calculated how much he would need for a taxi, then stuffed the rest into the tip jar.

The cashier stared at him, then nodded gratefully as he put the phone back under the counter.

Just when Magnus was about to leave, he heard the cashier’s voice behind him.

“Hey, man. Are you okay?”

Magnus paused with his hand placed against the door.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I think I am.”


	13. Chapter 13

Magnus fell asleep on the plane. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but he woke up to a flight attendant shaking his shoulder lightly and informing him that they had landed in Maine. His head felt murky and his legs ached from being folded up in the window seat. During the flight, someone took the tiny bag of peanuts from his tray. That was supposed to be Magnus’ dinner (or breakfast, or lunch, who knows), but he must have fallen asleep before he could eat them.

As he ducked his way out of the plane, Magnus suddenly remembered what being cold felt like. His time in Arizona fed into his hubris, so he was only wearing an open button-up shirt, t-shirt, and jeans. Even though he was inside the airport, he could tell that he had not dressed accordingly.

He maneuvered his way through the crowds, feeling oddly naked without his guitar case and duffel bag. After walking with them for so long, it felt like he forgot how to swing his arms naturally as he moved.

So, what was his plan now? He had enough cash on him to take a taxi, or probably a bus. He just needed to find the exit and-

“Magnus!”

Magnus almost stumbled over his own feet as he turned around.

Charles pushed his way through the crowd (in a polite way, of course) and made his way towards him.

Seeing him again almost made Magnus crumble to the floor. He looked the same, but that was exactly what he needed. Unlike Magnus, Charles was dressed appropriately for the winter with his winter coat and wool cap. Before Magnus could say anything, Charles pulled him into a hug. Charles was always awkward when initiating hugs. As far as the spectrum of hugs went, it was less of an embrace and more like he was awkwardly patting his upper arms, but it was enough to almost make Magnus start openly weeping.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah-” Magnus cleared his throat and started over when he realized how badly his voice cracked. “Thank you for this.”

Charles nodded and patted him on the arm.

“Of course.” He stopped and looked at Magnus critically. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“But you’re really pale and you’re shaking.”

“That’s probably because I’ve gone without food for so long.”

Magnus laughed, but Charles looked disturbed.

“Here.” Charles began unbuttoning his jacket. “You need this more than I do.”

He was wearing a blue flannel shirt underneath. It was the most casual Magnus had seen Charles dress since they met, not counting pajamas or fencing attire.

“Come on, man. You don’t have to-” Magnus stopped protesting immediately when Charles draped his jacket over his shoulders. He felt warmer right away.

“I’ll help you get your bags.”

Magnus nodded, and clutched the jacket tighter around his shoulders.

He didn’t know how to act around Charles as they walked together to the baggage claim. Over the week, he thought of so many things he wanted to say to him once they finally reunited. But now that they were finally together again, Magnus’ mind went blank. All he could think about was how peaceful he felt and how comfortable Charles’ jacket was.

They stood together by the baggage claim and Magnus held his breath as he waited for his bags. He didn’t worry so much about the duffel bag, but all of his anxieties were pinned on the guitar. This is why he hated traveling. If anything happened to it…

“Hey, uh,” Charles said to him. “Do you mind if I bring the car around?”

“Oh, sure.” Magnus shrugged. “Do you want your jacket back?”

Charles shook his head.

“My car’s not too far. And I can run.”

“Charles…”

“Hey,” Charles stopped before he could run off. “Have you eaten yet?”

Magnus didn’t know what to say. There was no way to answer that question honestly without going into too much detail.

“I’m fine.”

Charles stared at him with his all-too-familiar “I know you’re lying, but I don’t care to dispute it” face, then nodded and ran off, leaving Magnus alone in the baggage claim.

After Magnus finally got his bags (and checked his guitar to make sure it hadn’t been damaged), he stepped outside and,

Oh fuck,

 _Nothing_ could have prepared him for the cold.

He had experienced cold before - his college was in a northern state after all, but Maine seemed to take the concept of “cold” and amplify that to its most unnecessary extreme. Not only could he see his breath, he was pretty sure he could feel it crystalizing against this throat as he inhaled. He fed his arms through the jacket sleeves and bundled it tighter around his torso. Charles’ jacket felt less like a nice gesture and more like a necessity for survival. Speaking of which, where was Charles?

Magnus scanned his eyes over the crowds gathered in front of the airport. How these people aren’t turning into ice monsters in front of him was anyone’s guess. He was considering running back into the airport, when a gray Toyota honked its horn.

When he saw Charles waving inside, Magnus broke into a full sprint towards the car, throwing his luggage into the trunk then practically diving into the passenger’s seat.

“Oh thank god.” He held the jacket around his shoulders, and stared at Charles who was still in a flannel. “How are you still alive?”

Charles shrugged,

“I have the heater on.”

Magnus got situated in the passenger’s seat, securing the seatbelt over his chest. If the heater truly was on, Magnus sure wasn’t feeling any of its effects.

“Oh,” Charles reached in the car door compartment and pulled out a small white paper bag. “I figured you haven’t had breakfast yet, so I got you something.”

Magnus took the bag, the sudden warmth was almost enough to send a shock through his hand. Inside was a plain bagel, lightly browned from being recently toasted.

“I, uh, didn’t know what flavor or toppings you like, so I just grabbed plain.” Charles shrugged. “I hope that’s okay.”

Magnus took a bite of the bagel and he almost broke into a sob right there. It made him fully face the reality of how long he had gone without a proper meal. Even though it hurt getting down, Magnus had never been happier.

They were silent as Charles pulled out of the airport, but it was a peaceful silence. It reminded Magnus of the times they would spend in their dorm, where Charles would study and Magnus would...not study. As Charles drove steadily through the foggy streets, Magnus ate his bagel as he stared out of the window. Never mind Portland reminding him what the cold felt like, the city was reminding him of what winter was supposed to look like too. The snow piled up against the New English buildings made Magnus feel like he stepped into a picture book. It was certainly easier to appreciate when he was inside Charles’ car.

“Hey, um,” Charles spoke up at some point, his voice sounding hesitant and uncertain. “Did you want to talk about it? What happened, I mean.”

Magnus fidgeted with the empty bag in his hand.

“It’s kind of a lot, are you sure?”

“Of course.” Charles allowed a brief glance back at Magnus before returning his eyes to the road. “It’s why I’m here.”

That’s all what Magnus needed. He started recounting the events tentatively, before the dam broke and he let everything spill. All of the events were explained out of order and he often found himself needing to stop and start over. But the entire time, Charles simply listened without interruption.

When Magnus was done, Charles sighed and shook his head.

“Wow,” his voice was soft and distant. “That’s, uh, that’s a lot. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Eh,” Magnus shrugged, as if trying to brush off everything he just told him. Sitting in that car with Charles almost made it feel like the past week's events haven’t happened. “It could have been worse.”

“Still. You could have called me the moment you felt like something was wrong. I would have gotten you out of there sooner.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Magnus folded his arms across his chest. “Honestly, it went as well as I should have expected.”

“You put yourself out there. It’s a shame they couldn’t appreciate that.”

Magnus snorted,

“Would you appreciate me randomly showing up at your family’s house for the holiday?”

“Isn’t that more or less what you’re doing right now?”

“Hmm, good point.” He chuckled. “Still, thank you for doing this. I feel like I can finally relax.”

“Well, don’t relax too much. Because now you have to deal with _my_ family.”

“Oh, right.” Magnus rubbed his hands together. “Tell me about this rogue’s gallery. Give me the rundown.”

Charles sighed and tapped his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Well, there’s my mother, Dr. Offdensen.”

“Oh right, I talked to her once.”

“Yeah, but you called her ‘Mrs. Offdensen’. Don’t do that.”

Magnus frowned,

“Wait, she remembers?”

“It’s the first thing she brought up when I said I was going to go get you.”

“Oh.” Okay, so he wasn’t off to a great start as far as first impressions went.

“Then there’s my step-father. You will call him ‘sir’, because we all do.”

“Dr. Offdensen and Sir. Got it.”

“My older siblings are visiting too: Christian, Claudette, and Charlotte.” Charles continued. “Christian is a business tycoon, whose current net-worth is up in the billions. Claudette was named “Engineer of the Year” 6 years in a row now. Charlotte, as you already know, was the youngest person her year to get into medical school. And then there’s me: some pre law student.”

“Hey.” Magnus swatted him on the arm. “Don’t sell yourself short like that. You’re, like, a fuckin’ prodigy.”

Charles sighed,

“Yes, but I come from a family of prodigies. Which means, one of us has to fall short.”

“Hey, if it’s any comfort, I’m going to make you look really good by comparison.”

“I was meaning to talk to you about that, and don’t take this the wrong way,” He briefly looked over at Magnus. “But do you have _anything_ nicer to wear?”

Magnus tugged at the collar of his t-shirt.

“What? Your parents aren’t Dead Kennedys fans?”

“I guarantee, they’re not.” He sighed. “So do you have any pants without holes? Or any plain shirts?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“So you’re not prepared to survive my parents, _and_ you’re not prepared to survive winter in Maine.”

“Hey, this was a last minute trip, okay?”

Charles didn’t respond as he kept driving. Then, he groaned and made a U-turn.

“Goddamnit.”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting you some new clothes.”

Charles pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. He got out of the car immediately, but Magnus was hesitant to get out. The moment Charles turned the car off, he could feel the cold seeping in from the outside. Eventually he found the willpower to open the door and step out into the unforgiving winter. He still had Charles’ coat wrapped tightly around his shoulders, but that didn’t do much for the cold air hitting his bare knees. Charles didn’t seem affected, even though he’d given up one of his layers. Fuckin’ show off.

But when he tried to ignore the weather, it astounded Magnus how picturesque Portland looked up close. He’d seen cities like this in picture books, or printed onto Christmas cards. 

Charles led Magnus past shops with frosted windows and the last remnants of Christmas decorations hanging over the door frames. When they walked past a bakery, the warm smell of freshly-baked breads and pastries mixed with the cold sea air in a way that shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Magnus felt a longing in his chest, as if he were feeling nostalgic for a place he’d never been to before.

The store Charles dragged him into was definitely above his budget, and the comfort he once felt immediately evaporated. It didn’t take long for them to fall into a routine. Charles would suggest an article of clothing, then Magnus would automatically check the price tag and wince. To which Charles would say that he planned on covering him, which only made Magnus feel worse.

Charles managed to gather up some essentials. Sweaters, gloves, pants without holes, a hat, a coat, and a couple pairs of gloves (he bought multiple because he figured Magnus would lose them, which was fair).

After changing into his new clothes, it was easier for Magnus to face the winter again as they left the store. But Charles led Magnus towards a second store before he could start walking to the car.

“One more stop.”

“I think we have everything.”

Charles shook his head.

“I’m getting you a suit.”

If the first shop was above his budget, this shop didn’t even exist in the same universe as his budget. It reminded Magnus of the times he would visit a museum as a kid - that feeling of being surrounded by invaluable objects and being constantly afraid that he was going to break something.

Of course, Charles obviously didn’t have this same problem. While Magnus stood in the center of the room with his arms pressed firmly against his sides, Charles immediately began looking through the jackets.

“Do I really need a suit just for meeting your parents?”

“Not saying it wouldn’t help,” Charles kept sifting through jacket options. “But you should have at least one suit.”

Magnus scoffed,

“What am I going to need a suit for?”

“Well, what do you plan on wearing for graduation?”

Magnus tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t they give you those robes? And that hat-thing?”

Charles turned around and stared at him strangely,

“You have to wear something _under_ the robe.”

Oh.

Charles selected a burgundy-colored jacket and held it up in the light.

“I think this color would work for you.”

Magnus shrugged.

“You’d know more than me.”

Charles walked over and pressed the jacket against his chest, then nodded.

“This works. I’ll see if we can get the full set.”

…

Magnus stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was afraid that the burgundy suit would have been too vibrant for him, but to his surprise it actually looked...decent? There was still something foreign about wearing it, that same uncomfortable stifling feeling he got when he first stepped into the shop, but he did notice that he was standing a little taller and he was holding his shoulders back. Maybe that’s because he was afraid that one wrong move would tear this incredibly expensive article of clothing.

Charles joined him a few minutes later, with a couple different colored ties in his hand.

“Oh good, it fits.”

“Yeah,” Magnus chuckled, as he tried rolling his shoulders around in the jacket. “It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“Weird how?”

“You know, just…” He shrugged. “Me in a suit.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. It looks good on you.”

“Aw, thanks man.” He grinned and gripped the lapels. “Would you say it... _suits_ me?”

Charles rolled his eyes,

“So this is what I have to deal with now?”

“Hey, you knew what you were signing up for when you picked me up.”

“Whatever. Just choose a tie.”

Magnus didn’t know what the correct option would have been, so he just grabbed the black tie from the top of the bundle Charles brought over. He looped the silk around his neck and paused. Charles noticed.

“Do you know how to tie a tie?”

Magnus frowned. He hated that Charles had to ask, but, well, he didn’t know how. Apparently that was one of those skills his father was supposed to teach him, and…

“Here.” Charles took one tie from his selection and set the rest down on a nearby shelf. “Like this.”

Magnus watched as Charles placed the tie around his own neck. Even though he tried to pay attention to how Charles’ hands maneuvered the two ends of the tie around each other, it didn’t take long for him to get turned around. At one point, Magnus blinked and Charles had had a perfectly-knotted tie around his neck.

“See? It’s simple.”

“Uh…” Magnus looked down at the two ends of the tie in his hands. Right, simple. “So I just…”

Shit, he couldn’t remember what Charles did at all. It was like he was back in his first guitar classes all over again. He tried tying a normal knot, but the way Charles immediately cringed told him that was not the right move.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“I…” Magnus slumped his shoulders and stared down at the glossy floor. “Sure.”

Charles stepped closer undid Magnus’ failed attempt.

“Let me know if you need me to slow down.”

Magnus nodded, but honestly he still couldn’t focus. The reality of being able to be this close to Charles again was finally settling in. Even simple things, like Charles’ knuckles occasionally brushing against his chest as he kept tying, filled him with the same feeling of security that first hug in the airport did.

“And, uh, that’s it.” Charles finished tightening the knot and stepped back.

Magnus turned around to examine his reflection in the mirror again. The tie only added to the surreal factor. It wasn’t the same kind of strange he felt when he tried on his father’s suit. With that, it was obvious that he wasn’t supposed to be wearing it. But as he saw himself standing in that suit store, wearing a suit that probably cost more than all of his textbooks combined, he could almost trick himself into thinking that he belonged in that world. He _could_ be the kind of man who owned a nice suit. It still wasn’t _him_ , but it was a better version of him.

The bar wasn’t exactly high.

“Oh…” Magnus shook his head. He didn’t want to voice this thought to Charles. Too humiliating. “It looks, uh, good.”

In the mirror, he saw Charles nod.

“We might have to take in more in the leg, but overall it’s a good fit.”

Magnus turned back around and tugged at the shirt buttons underneath his tie.

“Do I have to keep this buttoned up all the way? It’s a bit stifling.”

Charles squirmed a bit,

“I guess you could leave _one_ undone, but I imagine my parents will still give you grief for it.”

“Hmm,” Magnus mused as he loosened his tie and undid the top three buttons. “What about this?”

“ _Absolutely_ not!” Charles covered his eyes.

“What? Just to show a little bit of chest hair, just a cheeky amount.” He held the open edges of the shirt. “You remember the Bee Gees, right? It’s the style.”

“You can’t do that!” Charles’ face was completely red by this point.

“You’re right, I should undo the whole thing.”

Against Charles’ protests, Magnus unbuttoned the rest of the shirt, leaving a third of his torso bare. This time when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, it seemed closer to his normal style.

“You see, all the important bits are behind the shirt. But there’s always the chance that…”

“Please cover yourself up!”

Magnus laughed and redid enough of the buttons so he could be somewhat decent.

“I missed you, Charlie.”

Charles scoffed and adjusted his glasses.

“If I buy that suit for you, you have to promise to wear it. All of it.”

“Alright, fine.” Magnus buttoned up the shirt all the way. “I’m just saying, if you want me to make a good first impression…”

“Unless my family suddenly needs a washboard, you can keep your shirt on.”

“Hey.”

Charles actually laughed and patted him on the upper arm.

“I missed you too.”

…

Magnus changed back into his new winter clothes before leaving the suit shop. It felt weird walking out of a store with something so expensive. The entire time, he expected alarms to go off, or a security guard to tackle him, or something like that.

Charles had been calm throughout most of the day, however Magnus couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to grow increasingly agitated as they got closer to the car.

“Hey, do you, uh, need anything else?” He asked at one point.

Magnus was already fatigued from just two stores, and he wanted nothing more than to get back into the warmth of the car.

“Nah, I’m good.”

They got to the parking lot, and Charles stopped again.

“Are you sure? If there’s anything you need, we might as well get it while we’re here.”

“I said, I’m fine.” Magnus sighed. “Now please unlock the car before I freeze to death.”

Charles stood pensively for a moment.

The moment Charles got inside leaned over to unlock the passenger’s side, Magnus jumped into the seat and slammed the door shut.

“Thanks.” He rubbed his hands together, waiting for the heat to kick in.

Charles still wasn’t turning the key.

“Charlie?”

“Oh, right.” Charles turned the key in the ignition and the car hummed to life. He pulled out of the parking lot and soon enough they were back to gliding down the city streets.

Charles was quiet. Not “I’m focusing” quiet, or “Magnus, I’m going to ignore you until you stop bothering me” quiet, but his just-as-frequent “Inside, I’m going into all-out panic mode” quiet.

“Are you sure that bagel was enough?” He did manage to speak at some point. “Because we could always stop somewhere.”

“I’m fine.” Magnus paused. “But are you?”

Charles’ mouth tightened into a straight line.

“Hey…” Magnus sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “If you’re worried about how I’ll act around your family, I promise I’ll actually make an effort. I won’t repeat the same mistakes I made back in Phoenix.”

Charles shook his head.

“I’m not worried about you.” He sighed. “I’m worried about you seeing me with my family.”

“What?” Magnus frowned. “Why?”

“It’s hard to explain. In a sense, it’s like the way you see me conflicts with how my family sees me.” He made a gentle turn into a residential area. “I don’t want them to affect your perception of me.”

“Hey.” Magnus placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder, only for it to get shrugged off since he was driving. “We’ve known each other for years now, right? We live together. I’m meeting your family for the first time today. Why would I give them more credibility?”

Charles shrugged,

“My family does know me more.”

“Do they?”

Charles went quiet again, then he sighed.

“Thank you.” He sagged his shoulders. “You might have saved both of us with that call.”


	14. Chapter 14

Magnus could tell they were getting closer because Charles was looking more and more nervous. He started responding less to Magnus’ inane comments and his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were stark white.

“Charles?”

Charles jolted a bit, as if Magnus had woken him out of a trance.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Just worried about ya.”

Charles shook his head.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he responded, still keeping his eyes focused on the road. “Anyway, we’re here.”

Magnus peered through the foggy window and did a double-take.

He knew Charles’ family was rich. Watching him try to clean a shower for the first time told him as such. But when he saw the house, he felt his face go cold when he realized,

Oh. Charles’ family was _rich_ -rich.

The Victorian-style New English mansion didn’t look like a place Magnus could imagine someone living. It looked like a building that should have been reserved for museum tours or possible hauntings. The ivy growing over the rust-colored bricks like veins looked like a deliberate design choice, rather than nature taking its natural course. It had _spires._ Whose house has spires anymore? The house, or estate, was secluded in a dense forest of trees, making it look like it existed in its own world away from neighbors or the rest of the city. Charles drove past the iron gate into a driveway that curved in front of the house in a semicircle.

Charles parked the car near the far edge of the house and Magnus tried to contain his gawking.

“Well,” he patted his hands against the steering wheel. “This is it.”

“Yep.” Magnus tried to act like Charles just parked in front of a normal-sized house. “Uh, nice place you got.”

Charles nodded, his face a bit red.

“Thank you, um…” He hurried to turn the car off and open the door. “Let’s go.”

Charles helped Magnus carry his luggage to the door. The covered porch was weighed down with recent snow and the steps were slick with ice. Charles maneuvered Magnus’ bag to his shoulder so he could pull a key out of his breast pocket, but the door opened first.

“Took ya long enough, Chuck!”

The man standing in the doorway looked to be in his mid-30s and was dressed in a suit that made the one Magnus just bought look like rags in comparison. When he grinned at them, his teeth were so white and straight that Magnus refused to believe they were an actual part of his skull.

“We made a stop on the way.” Charles cleared his throat. “Magnus, this is my brother, Christian. Christian, Magnus.”

Magnus held his hand out, then winced under Christian’s strong grip and vigorous shake.

“Ah, so you’re the deadbeat, huh?”

“Uh, what?”

“I’m just messing with you, man.” Christian laughed and slapped Magnus on the back, leading him inside.

“Oh.” Magnus tried to laugh along with him, but he could hear his voice shaking.

“Hey, Charles,” Christian called over his shoulder to his brother, who was struggling behind them to close the door while carrying the rest of Magnus’ luggage. “Not like you to invite friends over. What gives?”

Magnus paled and looked back at Charles, hoping he wouldn’t divulge too much.

Fortunately, Charles knew better.

“I wanted to have a friend over for the holidays for once. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m just sayin’. Usually this time is for _family_ only.”

It didn’t escape Magnus’ attention that Christian was staring at him side-eyed as he said this. It made a chill run up his spine.

“You mean like how you invited your secretary over last year?” Charles muttered.

“Hey.” He pointed his finger accusingly at Charles. “She would have been family, if HR didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. You know what I mean, Magnus?”

Magnus felt like he shouldn’t be hearing this conversation, so he just pretended that he wasn’t there.

“Anyway,” Christian slapped his back again, pulling him back into reality. “Mag, can I call you Mag?”

“Uh, I guess s-”

“You ever go hunting, Mag?”

“I…” Magnus glanced over at Charles, hoping he could give him some guidance, but his blank expression didn’t help him at all. “No, not really.”

“What? Not even small game?”

“No, I’m, uh,” Might as well rip this band-aid off. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“Well you can still fish, right? You’re in Maine, afterall. You know, I once spent a week living on a boat with lobster fishermen. And let me tell you something. You might think you work hard, but you’ll never work as hard as those guys.” Christian sighed, staring off into the distance. “That’s why I do what I do.”

“Oh,” Magnus tried to latch onto something of a conversational hook. “You’re a fisherman?”

Christian laughed.

“Fuck no. I started running my businesses so I wouldn’t have to freeze my ass off on some piece of shit boat. But, I do have partial claim to one of Maine’s largest seafood companies. Here. In case you wanna break your vegetarian streak in style.”

Christian pulled out his wallet and handed Magnus a crisp off-white business card.

_ATLANTIC EXPORTS_

_Christian E. Offdensen_

_Chairman & Partner _

“Oh, cool.” Magnus stood with the business card in his hand, not sure what to do with it. He looked back at Charles, hoping he’d see him rolling his eyes or something. But unfortunately, his face was as stoic as it was since they pulled into the driveway.

“Come on,” Christian gripped Magnus’ shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Let’s get you situated.”

The haunted mansion feeling only increased the deeper Magnus got into the house. The entryway opened up to a massive living room with elegant Victorian furniture, a glossy white grand piano, and a roaring fireplace large enough for Magnus to fit inside if he curled into a ball.

Oh, not a pleasant thought.

There were two women sitting on the couch and a little girl around 7-years-old playing a chilling series of notes on the piano. 

One of the women, who looked to be around Christian’s age, was watching the girl play with a bored expression on her face. Her dark brown hair was cut bluntly along her jaw with razor-like precision. The other woman didn’t look much older than Charles. She sat on the other end of the couch, engrossed in a book as her dark hair fell over her eyes. At the sound of Magnus and Christian entering, they all looked up at them. The piano stopped.

“Ladies!” Christian laughed again. “I found our stowaway.”

Charles hurried over to Magnus’ side.

“This is my sister, Claudette,” he gestured to the bored-looking woman on the couch. “--her daughter, Chloe” --the girl at the piano. “And my other sister, Charlotte.” --the girl with the book. “Everyone, this is Magnus. My friend from college.”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you.” Magnus dug his hands into his pockets, not sure what else to do with them.

“He’s the one who called at four in the morning?” Claudette asked flatly.

“Uh-” Magnus kept looking back at Charles, hoping for some kind of support. _Anything_. But no, apparently Charles was just going to leave him stranded throughout this entire interaction. “Yeah, that was me. Sorry.”

“Hey, think of it as an act of charity,” Christian slapped Magnus on the back again. “Maybe we can right this off on our taxes!”

Christian laughed, and didn’t seem to notice that no one else joined him.

“So,” Magnus stepped closer to Charles, away from Christian. “Where should I put my stuff.”

Charles blinked, as if he was just pulled out of a daze, then nodded.

“I’ll, uh, lead the way.”

Magnus was eager to get out of the living room, but unfortunately Charles was taking him up the stairs. A lot of stairs. Apparently this house was even taller than how it looked from the outside.

“All of the guest rooms are taken,” Charles explained, seeming not to notice how far Magnus was lagging behind him. “So are you okay with staying in my room?”

Magnus had to stop and brace one hand against the wall so he could rest his legs.

“We shared a room for a whole year. Of course it’s okay.”

Charles had to set Magnus’ luggage down for a minute so he could open the door at the top of the stairs. The very top, specifically. How tall does a house have to be before you have to install an elevator? Or at least a dumbwaiter.

When Charles opened the door for him, Magnus stepped inside and set his guitar case down. Even though he knew Charles had been staying there for a week, the room still looked pristine. It was spacious, even with the ceiling sloping at an angle above them. The bed was neatly-made, and even the coat slung over the desk chair looked like it had been placed with a certain level of care. A cushioned seat was placed in front of the tall, narrow window, which overlooked the rolling gray waves of the Atlantic ocean. It was all too easy to imagine a young Charles curled up near that window, reading a book or staring out over the foggy landscape.

Charles set Magnus’ bag down next to one of the bookshelves.

“Well,” He dug his hands into his pockets. “This is it.”

“Yeah. You have a nice room, man.” Magnus looked around. The only cluttered part of the room were the bookshelves, which were stuffed with everything from books, to framed photographs, to trophies. Magnus found it weird that Charles’ childhood bedroom was still intact. He was sure his father rented out his room the second he moved out. Hell, he probably rented the room out while he was still living there. It would explain why his stuff would keep going missing.

Without thinking, Magnus took a closer look at some of the photos. The first one that caught his eye was an older photo in a frame that appeared to be more ornate than the others. It was a portrait of a middle-aged man who looked remarkably similar to Charles. His face was a bit more rugged, but he still had that same downward-turned mouth, the same sturdy jawline, and the same stare that somehow looked simultaneously determined and drained.

Magnus turned his head away when he realized what he was doing.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to snoop through your stuff.”

Charles shrugged,

“My parents go through my things all the time. I wouldn’t leave anything out if I didn’t want people to see it.”

He joined Magnus next to the bookcase.

Magnus indicated to the photo.

“Grandfather?”

Charles shook his head,

“That’s my, uh, biological father.” He paused. “He’s, um, he died when I was four.”

“Oh.” Magnus heard Charles use the word “step-father” in the past, and on a selfish level it comforted him to believe that Charles was a child of divorce just like him. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

Charles shook his head,

“It’s okay. I was very young.”

“How did he…” Magnus trailed off, realizing it might be insensitive to ask.

“It’s fine, you can ask.” He stared down at the photo with an unreadable expression. “My father lived here in Maine with us, but his family and business was in London, which meant he had to keep travelling back and forth. He didn’t trust air travel, so he always insisted on going by ship.”

Charles paused, but Magnus still couldn’t make heads or tails of his emotional state. When he resumed speaking, his voice still had the same flat, emotional detachment.

“There was a storm, and his ship was lost at sea.” His expression was still frozen. “They never recovered his ship, but he was pronounced dead a few months later.”

Magnus had no idea what to say. At least if Charles looked or sounded upset, he’d have a better understanding of how to navigate this. But without any cues, Magnus had to rely on blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Your dad’s British?”

Charles either scoffed or laughed,

“You always focus on the weirdest details of whatever I tell you.”

“Sorry, I just-” Magnus rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, man. That sounds rough. Especially for a kid to go through…”

Charles shrugged,

“I only have vague memories of my father. He was strong, I remember. But then again, I didn’t really have a frame of reference back then. Honestly, I remember more about the lawyer.”

“Oh, from the whole ‘reading the will’ thing?”

“Probate lawyers don’t do that. Common misconception.” Charles shook his head. “No, I mean after my mom sued the ship company.”

“Wait, what?” Magnus tried to tell if Charles was making a joke or not, but that was difficult in his state. “Did she win?”

Charles nodded,

“Of course she did. But that was my first introduction to lawyers and the legal system in general.” He folded his arms. “I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know about the common perception of lawyers until I was much older. I always associated them with the man who was trying to defend my father.”

Magnus buried his hands into his coat pockets.

“Oh, so that’s why you want to practice law?”

Charles shook his head again.

“That may have been my motivation when I was a kid, but not anymore. Now, it’s about the principles. The idea that there’s a system in place that controls all of our lives, but only a select few know how to interpret it. There’s also the concept that everything has a logical through-line. Even outside of the legal system, everything is just clauses, premises, conclusions, and inferences.” He shrugged again and picked at his sleeves. “After studying law, you realize how in the dark you were before.”

“Wow, you must be a good lawyer, because you almost convinced me.”

This time, Magnus could tell Charles laughed.

“You know, if you would ever consider law school-”

“No, not happening.”

“Okay, fair.” Charles gave a small smile. “Sorry for rambling.”

Magnus waved his hand,

“You’re good. If anything, I missed this. Sorry again for looking through your pictures.”

“And again, they’re out in the open. I don’t mind.”

“So in that case, you don’t mind if I ask about _this_ ,” Magnus pulled out another framed photo that caught his eye and laughed. “Who’s this handsome little guy?”

The photo showed a very young Charles standing in front of the house. He was dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt and black tie, and his hair was neatly combed down and shiny. He was staring up at the camera, his wide eyes looking even bigger through his glasses, and he appeared to be holding some kind of case in his tiny right hand.

Charles’ face turned red.

“That’s-!”

“What? You’re a cute kid.”

Charles hid his face behind his hand.

“I think I was five-years-old in that.”

“And already so professional-looking! Seriously, what’s a five-year-old doing with a briefcase?”

“It’s a violin case.” Charles squirmed. “I, ah, used to play violin.”

Magnus set the photo back down on the shelf.

“Really? For how long?”

“I quit when I was in middle school.”

A silence formed between them. Somehow, Charles seemed more uncomfortable talking about this than his dead father.

Magnus cleared his throat.

“Hey, if you’re embarrassed about your old photos, I got one for you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the school photo he stole from his father. The one of him squirming in front of the camera, in an ill-fitting striped sweater, his half-deflated curls, and a sneer carved across his face.

Charles laughed,

“Why are you doing that with your face?”

“What do you mean? That’s just what my face looks like.”

Charles continued laughing, and Magnus couldn’t help but smile in return. After how detached he was acting before, it was a relief to know there was still some life left in him.

Magnus held his photo up next to Charles’.

“Look at them. Would you have guessed these two would have become friends?”

Charles shook his head instantly.

“I probably would have been afraid if you.”

“That’s fair. I was a little shit.” He cast his gaze back to Charles’ photo. “So, you played violin?”

Charles fidgeted.

“For a bit, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could jam together sometime.”

“I told you: I quit in middle school.” He kept twisting his fingers together. “I’m not very good.”

“Still, I’d love to hear you. I didn’t know you were a music guy.”

Charles scoffed,

“I know nothing about music. My parents were just trying to figure out what I was going to be good at.”

“I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

Magnus kept staring at Charles, until he sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“I think I have my old violin in my closet.”

“Hell yeah, man!”

Magnus sat down on the bed while Charles searched through his closet. He came out a few minutes later with a sleek black case, inside of which was a glossy classical violin.

“Damn,” Magnus whistled. “Can’t believe you leave that locked up.”

Charles’ face flushed again,

“I told you: I’m not that good at playing it.” He frowned. “Are you sure you want to hear me?”

“Of course, man.”

Charles took a deep breath and nodded,

“I need my sheet music.”

Charles ran back into his closet, leaving Magnus alone on the bed with the open violin case. After an even longer period of time, Charles returned with several books of sheet music in his arms. He dropped them in the bed next to Magnus and began meticulously flipping through each one individually.

“No...not that one...no...hm, no.” By the time he got to the third book, he finally landed on something. “Is Vivaldi okay?”

“I’m fine with whatever.”

Charles took a deep breath and slowly lifted the violin and bow out of the case. He situated the violin under his chin and stared down at the open book of sheet music on the bed.

“I think it, uh, starts with A major...I think.”

“Do you want me to check?”

“No!” Charles blurted before Magnus could reach for the sheet music. “I mean, I can figure it out.”

Magnus backed off,

“Alright, buddy.”

He leaned back against the headboard as Charles fiddled (violined?) with the bow across the strings, continuously restarting after a few seconds. At one point, Charles just stopped.

“You, uh, don’t have to look at me like that.”

Magnus felt his face go cold.

“Look at you like what?”

“I don’t know, just,” He slumped his shoulders. “It’s a bit hard to concentrate when you’re staring at me like that.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I think that would be even weirder.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Just...pretend to do something else.”

Magnus chuckled,

“Alright, whatever you say.”

Magnus grabbed a book from his bag and reclined back on the bed while Charles continued to get a hang of his violin. When he finally got out of his own head and started playing, he was...good? Of course, Magnus could still notice the few mistakes in the melodies and the moments when Charles would pause to check the sheet music, but he still clearly knew how to play the violin.

At one point, in the middle of a chord, Charles groaned in frustration and set the violin back down.

“Anyway, you get the idea.”

“Whoa, what?” Magnus sat up. “You’re not going to finish?”

“I told you: I’m not very good.” He laid the violin back down in the case. “Also, it’s a lot of pressure playing in front of you.”

Magnus frowned,

“Pressure? Why?”

“Because you’re actually a musician.”

“Okay, then you should believe me when I tell you that you sounded good, right?”

Charles was quiet for a moment, then he sat down on the other side of the bed and sighed.

“I was, uh, discouraged to stop playing.” He stared down at his hands. “My parents thought I wasn’t improving fast enough and they believed my calling lied elsewhere.”

“Really? That sucks, man.”

Charles shrugged.

“I mean, they weren’t wrong. I had to be the least talented student in my violin class.” He closed the case, clicking the latches shut. “So it, uh, it feels weird to try again.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t tell you.”

Magnus thought for a moment, then turned his attention back to Charles.

“Do you want me to teach you how to play guitar?”

Charles stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not? I have it with me.”

“You’d let me touch your guitar?”

“Of course. I know you’ll be careful.”

“Okay, if you’re sure-”

Magnus jumped for his case before Charles could finish his sentence. When he lifted the guitar out and handed it to Charles, he stared at the instrument like he was being handed a nuclear bomb.

“It won’t bite.” Magnus laughed. “Just take it.”

Charles hesitated, then slowly took the guitar into his hands. He even placed the strap over his shoulder, despite sitting down. As he got the guitar situated in his lap, he kept looking up at Magnus, as if double-checking to make sure he was doing it right.

“You’re fine,” Magnus dug a pick out of a small pouch in his case and handed it to Charles as well. “Don’t worry.”

Charles nodded and took the pick in his right hand.

“Since you already have experience with violin, you probably don’t need me to teach you about notes and frets, and all that.”

Charles looked at him strangely.

“Violins don’t have frets.”

“Oh.” Magnus paused. “You’ll figure it out, though.”

Charles nodded again and placed his fingers on the frets.

“You’re going to want to start out like this.” Without thinking, Magnus reached out and moved his fingers into the proper position for an E chord. Charles didn’t object at least, but his hand was visibly trembling under the strain.

“Do your fingers always cramp when you do this?”

“Nah, but I’ve been doing this my whole life. It’s okay if it feels weird now.” Magnus stepped away, confident that Charles could hold his hand in position. “You can strum the chord now.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut, then ran the pick along the strings, producing a perfectly adequate E chord. He opened his eyes and stared down at the guitar in disbelief.

“See? I said you could do it.”

Charles released the neck so he could shake the tension out of his fingers.

“That was just one chord.”

“Yes, but soon you’ll learn how to play another. It’s a process, man.”

“How are my hands already sweaty?”

“It’s part of the journey.” Magnus snickered. “Word of advice: don’t smell your own fingers after you’ve been playing for a while.”

Charles laughed, and for a moment the anxiety appeared to be leaving his features.

“I always knew you were an amazing guitarist, but now after trying it for myself,” he tried fumbling with the frets again. “I have an entirely new appreciation for it. You make this look so easy.”

“It’s just practice. I hope you stick with it.”

“Yeah, I hope-” Charles stopped and, as if in a trance, removed the strap from his shoulder and handed the guitar back to Magnus.

“Uh,” Magnus took the guitar. “You okay?”

Charles nodded. He didn’t look frustrated, or upset, or tired. In fact, he didn’t look anything.

“We can pick it back up later.”

“Oh, uh, sure thing.”

Magnus returned the guitar to the case, and then, as if on cue, the bedroom door opened.

An older woman in a dark gray pantsuit stood in the doorway, and Magnus recognized her right away as Charles’ mother. It looked like her face was perpetually stuck in the same expression Charles would make whenever Magnus lied about doing the dishes.

“You know how we feel about closed doors in the house.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Charles responded smoothly, as if he rehearsed. “This is Magnus, my friend from college.”

“It’s uh, nice to meet you officially, Dr. Offdensen.” Magnus stood up and offered his hand. When she didn’t take it, he retracted his hand and ran it through his hair.

He looked back at Charles on the bed. Charles always had great posture (obnoxiously so), but now he looked like a marionette whose strings were suddenly yanked upwards. His face looked as solid and frozen as a marionette’s too.

Magnus turned his attention from Charles to his mother, who was stepping carefully around the room like an inspector. He felt his body go cold when she picked up a notebook from his desk and began flipping through the pages. Charles was unmoved.

She placed the notebook back down, and after one final sweep of the room, she returned to the door.

“You’re not going to spend the entire visit holed up in your room.”

Charles gave a brisk nod.

“Of course.”

Dr. Offdensen gave Magnus one last suspicious look (which he was used to receiving from his friends’ parents, to be honest), then descended down the staircase.

Magnus expected Charles to relax, or give a sigh of relief, or something. But instead he turned back to Magnus with that same unnerving blankness.

“Sorry about that. I heard her coming up the stairs.”

Magnus knew his hearing wasn’t great, but he didn’t hear anyone approaching the door. And the stairs in this historical house weren’t exactly quiet.

“It’s okay.” Magnus looked down at his hands and lowered his voice. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“If you’re sure.” He frowned. “Did she seriously go through your notebook?”

Charles waved his hand,

“If you weren’t here, she would have gone through my entire desk.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds shitty.”

Charles shrugged,

“It’s alright, I can’t complain. Especially after hearing about what you-”

“No,” Magnus held up his hand. “Fuck that. You don’t get to use my situation to feel better about yours.”

A wide-eyed expression managed to break through on Charles’ previously blank face.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“We both have our baggage, okay? It’s not a competition.” He sighed when he noticed how alarmed Charles looked. “It’s okay, man. I just hate feeling like a prop.”

“I never saw you like that. I just wouldn’t want you to think I’m overreacting.”

“If anything, I think you’re _under-_ reacting.”

“It’s not that bad.” Charles’ posture managed to relax a bit. “Coming home is like going to work. It’s draining, but you clock in, put on a good face, then clock out. I’m a punch-card son, I guess you could say.”

“Still. You deserve better.”

“Thank you,” he sagged his shoulders. “You deserve better too,”

“Thanks, buddy.” He sighed. “Besides, you have a real home now.”

Charles fell backwards on the bed.

“This is why I didn’t want you to see me here.”

Magnus felt a pit start to form in his gut.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re stronger than me, braver than me too. I thought if you saw how I acted around my family, you’d see me as a pushover.”

“Hey.” Magnus laid down next to Charles. “You chose to come here, even though you know what it’s like. That’s brave.”

“You can’t honestly think that.”

“Yes, I can. If I knew how things were going to go down in Phoenix, I never would have gone.” Magnus closed his eyes. “Whenever you come back here, do you ever hope that one day, things will be better?”

“No, I know what to expect.”

“And yet you still go, which makes you braver than me.”

Charles scoffed, but it was reassuring to see a genuine smile start to form on his face.

“You probably shouldn’t try to boost my ego. It won’t do me much good while I’m here.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll try to make it up to you when we get back.”

Charles gave a light laugh, then closed his eyes, exhaling deeply through his nose. For the first time since they arrived, Charles looked fully at peace. Magnus watched him for a moment, savoring it. After everything he’d just witnessed, it was reassuring to know that Charles could relax around him. This was probably a selfish thing to take from this, but it made Magnus feel like he had worth.

“We should probably go downstairs.” Charles murmured, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah, but,” Magnus rolled onto his side, facing Charles. “Or we could stay here.”

Charles opened his eyes and looked back at him. From the close distance, Magnus was fully able to notice the different shades of Charles’ eyes, how the slivers of brown always seemed to appear darker after his eyes had just been closed.

“We should go downstairs.” Charles double-downed.

“Alright, whatever you say.” Magnus sighed. “But remember: who you are around them isn’t a reflection of you.”

“I know.” Charles sat up and smiled. “I’m just on the clock.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for chapter:  
> -Emotional & psychological abuse  
> -Drug use (cocaine)  
> -Implied/Referenced animal abuse  
> -Implied/Referenced homophobia  
> -Misogynistic language

Magnus stayed behind when Charles first went downstairs. He said he needed to talk to his parents and Magnus didn’t have to join him if he didn’t want to. Since Magnus was still not sure how he felt about roaming the house or interacting with the other family members without Charles there, he chose to stay in the bedroom. 

There was something strange about being in the childhood bedroom of his best friend. He felt the same way whenever he visited his other friends’ houses as a kid. The little lived-in details of their daily lives that he never got to see under normal circumstances. However, as Magnus continued taking Charles’ room, the more he came to the conclusion that it did not look like a child’s bedroom. If Charles was a little Victorian boy who was wasting away from some disease, maybe. Then his bedroom would serve as an effective historical recreation - like those dioramas he’d see in museums. Charles could have lived in this bedroom in 1975, or 1875 and nothing would have to change.

Shit, at least Magnus was allowed to hang posters up on the walls. The walls of Charles’ room were bare, other than the faded blue and ivory wallpaper.

The sterile environment kept crowding in on Magnus’ mind until he actually decided that whatever was going on downstairs would probably be less depressing. So he made his way downstairs, the steps creaking under his movements. 

When he finally reached the ground floor and the squeaking stopped, it finally hit Magnus how  _ quiet _ the house was. Magnus was sure he had never been in a house that was this quiet growing up. There was always something going on in the background. The television, his father’s record player, his parents screaming, stomping, a door being slammed too loud. While the constant noise was distressing, Charles’ house was distressing on the opposite end. The quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was the same level of silence one would expect a hunter to have before pulling the trigger.

With how quiet everything was, it was nearly impossible for Magnus to figure out where everyone was in the house. It sure didn’t help that the house felt like an endless labyrinth of hallways and corridors. After what had to be a good twenty minutes of wandering, he eventually found one of Charles’ older sisters, Charlotte, standing in what Magnus suspected was the fifth home office he walked past.

She was standing in front of a large, ceiling-to-floor bookshelf with her back facing him, her arm outstretched towards one of the shelves she couldn’t quite reach.

“Hey, uh…” Magnus cleared his throat and took a step through the doorway. “Do you know where Charles went?”

Charlotte stared at him, her eyes unblinking behind her glasses.

When she didn’t respond, Magnus cleared his throat again and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Okay. I guess I’ll, uh, try to find him myself.”

Charlotte nodded, and went back to reaching for one of the shelves.

“Do you...do you want me to get that for you?”

She looked over her shoulder and seemed to scan him up and down with her eyes before slowly nodding.

Magnus stepped fully into the study, well aware of how hard Charlotte continued to stare at him.

“Which one do you need?”

Charlotte pointed up at a rather worn-out book on one of the higher shelves, the black leather spine cracked from heavy use.

Magnus squinted to read the faded text on the spine.

_ “Antique Vitalogy?” _

Charlotte nodded.

Magnus certainly had an easier time reaching it than she did, but he still had to strain and stretch his arm as high up as it would go. The entire time, Charlotte continued to stare at him.

He finally managed to pry the book out from its spot on the shelf, but it felt so fragile and brittle in his hands that he felt like he shouldn’t be allowed to touch it. One wrong move, and Magnus was certain it would turn to dust in his grasp.

“Here you go,” He handed the book to Charlotte, who quickly snatched it up and clutched it to her chest. Up close, if Magnus didn’t know she was Charles’ older sister, he would have insisted that they were twins. Charlotte’s expression looked a bit more...adrift than Charles’, but their facial features were nearly identical. At least Magnus now had a reference for what Charles would look like with long hair.

Charlotte prepared to leave the study, then stopped in the doorframe so she could turn around and beckon for Magnus to follow.

It wasn’t like Magnus knew what else to do in the house. So he shrugged and trailed after her.

Charlotte led him down another hallway, and then they were back in the same living room from before. The other sister, Claudette, was sitting in the same place on the couch with a glass of red wine and her daughter, Chloe, was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. When Magnus saw Charles sitting on the couch next to his sister, he felt like a massive weight had been lifted from his chest.

“Nice of you to join us,” Charles nodded at them, his voice exhibiting that same hollowness as before.

Charlotte sat down on the couch between her two siblings, leaving Magnus to sit on an ottoman in front of them.

“Yeah, uh, thank you again for having me.” Magnus patted his hands against his knees. “So, what were you guys talking about?”

“I was talking to Charles about the welfare situation.” Claudette explained.

That weight slammed back down against his chest, but he tried to keep a neutral face. Charles’ similarly unmoving expression was providing him with little levity.

“Oh, okay.”

“Do you have any thoughts, Magnus?” She asked.

Every single one of Magnus’ instincts told him that he probably shouldn’t tell her that his dad had to rely on welfare after he lost his job, and the restrictions put in place by the Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act of ‘81 ended up fucking him over even more, so he decided to just shrug and play it safe.

“I can see why some people would feel a certain way, but I still need to consider all of the factors.”

Claudette nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer.

Charles’ face was still unmoved, but Magnus liked to believe that he was proud of his noncommittal response.

Charlotte was still staring at him.

“So, uh,” Magnus spoke more out of a need to change the subject as quickly as possible. “How has your holiday been?”

“Pain in the ass.” Claudette sighed. “December is such a busy time of year for the tech industry. Doesn’t help that the year’s almost over, and one of my major clients  _ still _ hasn’t gotten back to me. Best I can hope for is that the asshole calls before January.”

“You have twelve hours left, Claudi. You’d be better off waiting for pigs to fly.” Christian suddenly appeared in the room, his demeanor hadn’t shifted at all since Magnus last saw him. “Or for Charlie to finally kiss a girl.”

He laughed and ruffled Charles’ hair from behind the couch. Charles barely responded.

Christian sat down on one of the arm chairs and crossed his ankle over his knee.

“So, Mags. How are you settling in?”

Magnus nodded as he strained to stay in “ideal guest” mode.

“Very well, thank you. Your house is really nice.”

Christian scoffed,

“It’s not my fuckin’ house.”

“Uh,” Magnus glanced down at the young girl sitting on the floor beside them, but Claudette waved her hand dismissively.

“We can swear around Chloe. She’s 7 -- she won’t remember.”

Chloe barely seemed to notice her mother saying her name, but Magnus swore he could see her huff and roll her eyes into her  _ Babysitters Club _ book.

Claudette sighed,

“Honey, don’t read that. Here.” She grabbed a book from a nearby shelf and handed it to her daughter, which Magnus recognized as Sun Tzu’s  _ The Art of War. _

Chloe pouted,

“Mom, I already read it.”

“Yes, but did you  _ learn _ it?”

Chloe frowned, but tucked  _ The Art of War _ under her arms and left the living room.

Claudette leaned back and took a sip of her wine.

“Kids.”

Christian drummed his hands against his chair’s armrests as he focused back on Magnus.

“You do any traveling, Mags?” he asked, in a way that made it clear that he was just using the question as an excuse to talk about himself. So Magnus decided to just let him have this.

“Not really. Do you?”

Christian grinned, which let Magnus know that he was right.

“Went to Japan for a business trip a few months ago. And you know what I realized? Don’t get me wrong - I love our country, but we could learn something from them. Like, the way they treat respect in their culture. You know they don’t do handshakes, right? They bow. I like that! It draws attention to the difference in authority.” He made a movement to stand up out of his chair. “Come on, Mag. I’ll show you how to do it.”

“Uh…” Even though he was determined to be a perfect (or adequate) guest, he drew the line at bowing before his friend’s older brother. “I’m good.”

Christian chuckled,

“Anyway, you ever heard of fugu?”

“I don’t think so-”

“Pufferfish, basically. One of the most poisonous animals on earth. Only the most qualified chefs are allowed to prepare it.” He locked his gaze with Magnus, his eyes uncomfortably wild. “One of the best meals I ever had. Not just for the taste, but for the  _ thrill _ .”

Magnus looked back at Charles,

“Your brother talks about seafood a lot.”

Charles remained stone-faced, but Christian laughed,

“You got some bite to you - I like that.”

From another room, a telephone started ringing. Claudette pushed herself off the couch with a sigh.

“I’ll get it. Maybe he  _ finally _ reached back to me.”

With Claudette gone, Magnus was stuck with his unresponsive best friend, Charlotte, who was too engrossed in her book to notice, and Christan, who was continuing to engage with Magnus.

“You ever come close to death, Mags?”

“Uh…” Magnus laughed nervously. “Not from eating poisonous fish, at least.”

“I think every man should have at least one near death experience.” Christian nodded. “Builds character.”

“That’s, uh-”

“Christian!” Claudette called from the other room. “Your ex-wife is on the phone!”

“Ugh, un-fucking-believable,” he groaned before yelling back, “Tell her she’s already stealing my money - she doesn’t have to steal my time too!”

He looked back at Magnus and rolled his eyes, as if this was a source of solidarity between them.

“It’s about Cameron!” Claudette continued. “He got in a fight at ski camp!”

“What the fuck,” Christan murmered. “This is why a boy needs a strong male presence in his life. Right, Mags?”

“Uh,” Magnus squirmed. “Sure, man.”

“Guess I’m not gonna hear the end of this.” He sighed again and stood up. “Don’t have too much fun without me, ya hear?”

Christian left, now leaving just Magnus, Charles, and Charlotte in the living room. Honestly, this was the best case scenario. He knew Charles, and at least Charlotte seemed to keep to herself.

Except...she kept staring at him over the top of her book.

He would try to give her a reassuring smile whenever they accidentally locked eyes, but knowing him it probably came off as more threatening than comforting.

But then, Charlotte lowered her book open against her lap and whispered something into her brother’s ear. Charles’ eyes widened and he whispered something back to her. It wasn’t long until the two were frantically whispering back and forth to each other, while Magnus was unable to decipher any of it.

“Okay, fine.” Charles squeezed his eyes shut and sighed showing more emotion than he’d expressed in a while. “Magnus?”

“Yeah?”

“Charlotte wants to know,” he darted his eyes back at her. When she nodded, he let out another defeated sigh. “She wants to know if you, uh, have a girlfriend.”

Magnus snorted, automatically taking it as a joke. But the expressions on both of their faces told him that this was very serious.

“Oh,” He cleared his throat and started over. “No, no girlfriend.”

Charlotte nodded, then whispered something else to Charles. This time, his entire face turned bright red.

“I’m  _ not _ telling him that.”

“Wait, what is it?” Magnus laughed. “Now you gotta tell me.”

Charlotte nodded insistently and Charles hid his face in his hands.

“She also wants you to know that she finds your stemomastoid to be, um, ‘beautifully formed’.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows,

“Sorry, my  _ what _ ?” Did he accidentally leave his zipper down? Was there a subtle way to check?

Charles tilted his head to the side and patted his hand against the side of his neck.

“Here. One of the major neck muscles.”

“Oh,” Magnus laughed, rubbing his own neck. “Thanks, I get that a lot. From med students and vampires.”

Neither of them responded, but Magnus liked to believe that if Charles wasn’t stuck in “Family Mode”, he would have found it funny.

Charlotte whispered something else to Charles, and this time he visibly cringed.

“Okay, I’m  _ definitely _ not telling him that.”

Charlotte huffed, tucked her book under her arm, and left the living room, leaving Magnus and Charles sitting across from each other.

Magnus fidgeted on the ottoman, the only sound coming from the crackling fire next to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he experienced this kind of silence when he was alone with Charles. Not a peaceful, relaxing silence, but an uncomfortable one. It really seemed like he shifted entirely from “his friend and roommate, Charles” to “one of the Offdensens” - as if he became an entirely different person the moment he left the room.

“So,” Magnus spoke, more to fill the silence than anything else. “They seem, uh, nice.”

Charles frowned, and the mask slipped away.

“Can I talk to you, Magnus?”

“Oh,” he glanced around the room. “You wanna go somewhere else?”

Charles shook his head,

“No, here’s fine.”

“Okay,” Magnus chewed at his bottom lip. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s just…” Charles sighed and closed his eyes. “Please, don’t pursue my sister. Charlotte, I mean. Well, Claudette is married, so you shouldn’t go after her either, but I’m talking about Charlotte.”

“Uh…” Magnus laughed nervously, still processing what he just heard. “You’re seriously worried about that?”

“It’s not because I’m her brother, and she can do what she wants. But…” He twisted his fingers around in his lap and lowered his voice to a slight whisper. “Charlotte doesn’t have a lot of opportunities to interact with people. And she tends to develop crushes on every guy who comes over, so I worry about her getting taken advantage of.”

“Wait,” Magnus knotted his brow. “You think I’d actually do that?”

“I just don’t want her attention towards you to be mistaken for genuine interest. She’s not attracted to you, she’s just a little awkward and lonely.”

“Jeez, no need to make it personal.” Magnus paused when he remembered how serious Charles’ tone was, so he started over. “You don’t have to worry about me. It’s, uh, it’s really sweet how much you care. You’re a good brother.”

“Thank you.” Charles kept staring down at his hands. “We don’t really look out for each other here, but I just want to be sure.”

“No, no, I get you.” He reached out and patted Charles on the shoulder. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” The mask had returned. “What about you.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He turned his attention to the roaring fireplace. Well, he lost “real Charles” again, no point in trying to continue the conversation.

But this time, the silence was peaceful.

…

After that Christmas, Magnus was not looking forward to the New Year’s Eve dinner. However, things appeared to be going smoothly.

Well, “smoothly” in the Offdensen household way.

Which is to say there was a tension in the air and no one was speaking, but that also meant that no one was screaming or making a scene, so by Magnus’ metric that counted as smooth.

The table had food Magnus could eat too. The main dish was some kind of blackened fish which he couldn’t eat, but there was also a perfectly-warming squash soup, potatoes roasted in rosemary and garlic, and a roasted chickpea salad. Magnus didn’t know who prepared the food, for all he knew it just appeared on the table. But it was the first substantial meal he’d had since leaving campus, and that alone was almost enough to make him start sobbing in relief.

He managed to slot in at the dinner table rather well too. Magnus was seated directly across from Charles, who was sitting on the same side of the table as Christian and Charlotte, leaving him with Claudette and Chloe. Charles’ parents were seated at either end.

This evening was also the first time Magnus got a look at Charles’ step-father. Apparently Charles’ mother had a type, because his step-father gave off the same energy Magnus felt from that photo of Charles’ biological father. A man who seemed to be both psychologically and physically incapable of smiling.

Well, Magnus didn’t need his approval. He was only there to get away from his own oppressive father figure and look out for Charlie.

Magnus took a sip of his soup, and he felt the energy at the table change.

The spoon shook in Magnus’ hand. They were staring at him. Why were they staring at him? Did he mess up already?

From across the table, Charles politely cleared his throat to get Magnus’ attention. He then, keeping his eyes locked with Magnus’, lifted his own spoon from his bowl. Instead of placing the spoon in his mouth like Magnus did, he pressed the side against his lips and tilted it.

That seemed so unnecessary, but Magnus managed to follow his motions and soon the rest of the family stopped staring at him.

Magnus only survived the meal by using Charles’ as his guide. He’d watch his face as he hovered his hand over the utensils, waiting for him to nod when he reached the correct one. Towards the end of the dinner, he gave up and just started mirroring all of Charles’ actions. He worried that the others might notice, but he knew Charles was going through enough already without also having to teach him table manners in the moment.

After dinner, everyone else seemed to disperse around the house. Which was fine by Magnus. If anything, it was an indication that he survived a family dinner without ruining it somehow. And he got an actual meal out of it. Another victory. That was worthy of a smoke break.

Magnus headed to the French doors leading out to the backyard, but they wouldn’t budge. He frowned and pulled again, but they were locked tight.

“Leaving already?”

Magnus jumped and turned to see Christian standing at the other end of the room, watching him with mild amusement.

“I was just, uh, going out for a smoke.”

“Really, now?” Christian laughed. “It’s so cold, your cigarette will put itself out.”

“But I can’t smoke in the house.”

“Sure you can. That’s what the smoking room is for.”

Magnus frowned, not knowing if he was pulling his leg or not.

“Smoking room.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Christian waved his hand over. “I was just heading there myself.”

Magnus followed him through another twisted web of halls and corridors until Christian opened a particular door.

They stepped inside into what looked like a rather nice den. A set of leather armchairs and couches were positioned over the tiger print rug in front of a fireplace. There was a glossy mahogany bar, some bookshelves...

Oh! And all of the taxidermied animals.

Magnus had no problem sitting in the leather chair (it felt like a gray area), but that quickly became the least of his problems as he looked around the room. The wall above the fireplace was lined with mounted deer heads. Yes, multiple. As if the point wouldn’t be made with just one. The deer were all crowded out by the massive moose head mounted along with them. Beyond the heads there were also pelts, antlers, whole swordfish, and skeletons of various small animals on display. There was a black bear positioned near one of the other walls, forever frozen after death in an aggressive standing pose, rather than the position it must have actually died in.

Okay, Magnus tried not to be a preachy vegetarian. He didn’t care what his friends ate. He bought ingredients from the same companies that also processed meat. Hell, he owned a leather jacket, even if it was thirty years old and had been given to him by a friend.

But anyway, this room felt like some kind of cosmic test.

Christian had no problem taking a seat by the fire while Magnus struggled to get himself to leave the doorway. He lowered his head away from the lifeless gazes of the animals and slowly sat down on a chaise lounge.

He sat back and swung his legs over the side so he could place his feet on the rug,

The rug that still had a tiger’s head attached to it.

Magnus gasped and pulled his feet back up, tucking them underneath his legs.

Christian chuckled as he poured himself a glass of brandy,

“She’s a fierce bitch, huh? Snatched her up myself.”

“Uh…” Magnus was at a loss for words as he realized that the rug beneath him wasn’t tiger print, but an actual tiger. Shit, he was going to be sick.

“Oh right, you came here to smoke, not chat. That’s fine.”

Honestly, Magnus felt like he needed something much stronger than tobacco, but he nodded and pulled his pack out of his coat pocket.

Christian snorted,

“Marlboros?”

Magnus paused before he placed the cigarette in his mouth.

“Uh, what?”

“You gotta treat yourself, man.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a sleek metal box and snapped it open, revealing a row of tightly-packed unidentifiable white cigarettes.

He held the box out and Magnus hesitated. He’d accepted much more suspicious substances from people at parties, but all of Magnus’ instincts were practically screaming at him to not take one of these cigarettes.

Magnus shook his head and placed one of his Marlboros between his lips.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Christian shrugged, took one of his own cigarettes out, then snapped the case closed.

They sat in silence for a moment while they smoked. Magnus had come in there to relax, but he was trying to get his cigarette down as fast as possible. Even though Christian hadn’t said anything, Magnus still felt like he had to be on edge as long as he was alone in a room with him.

“I’m glad Charlie has a friend,” Christian finally said.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Magnus nodded. “Charlie’s pretty cool.”

Christian laughed,

“We talking about the same Charles here?”

“Come on, man.” Magnus punctuated his words with a shaky laugh to add some levity.

“Hey, I’m his big brother. It’s my job to give him shit.”

More silence. Magnus stared into the fireplace and basked in the warmth while he pretended to be somewhere else.

Naturally, Christian was the first one to speak again.

“You do any modeling, Mags?”

Magnus snorted and turned his head away from the fire to face him.

“What, are you making a pass at me?”

The smile dissolved from Christian’s face and twisted into a feral anger.

“Why the  _ fuck _ would you think that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He mashed the lit end of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “I’m a  _ father _ , you fuckin’ pervert.”

“Jesus, alright, fine. I was just joking.” Although, Magnus found himself crawling backwards on the lounge, “Sorry.”

The rage vanished from Christian’s face almost as quickly as it appeared, which was almost as terrifying as the display of rage itself.

“I’m just asking because it seems like something you could do,” he clarified as he lit a fresh cigarette.

Magnus let out a nervous laugh,

“Yeah, clearly modeling agencies are looking for what I’m working with.”

Christian shook his head.

“You got the height - that’s the big thing. Of course if you want an actual chance, you’ll have to fix your skin, your nose, and obviously your teeth-”

“So in summary: I’m ugly as fuck, but at least I’m tall?”

“Shit, no need to get all sensitive,” Christian laughed. “Actually, I’ve noticed agencies don’t want perfect, angelic-looking models anymore. Now, it looks like a model will have a better chance if he or she has some kind of flaw that makes them stand out. Like a big nose. Or freckles. You look unique - that’s it.”

“Okay, it still sounds like you’re calling me ugly, but with extra steps.”

Christian sighed and rolled his eyes,

“First my intern, now you. People of your generation just can’t take a compliment, you know that?”

“I don’t think you’re much older than me, man…”

Christian’s posture changed, indicating that he was ready to change the next conversation topic.

“You ever been to a model party, Mags?”

“You must know that I haven’t.”

“Let me tell you about the best party I’ve been to,” Christian held his hands up like a movie director describing a scene, not seeming to register Magnus’ response at all. “This was in the Hollywood Hills. Everyone who had ever been anyone was at this party. Billions upon billions of dollars of combined net worth, I’m telling you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Magnus took a drag off his cigarette, content to just let Christian run his mouth so he could leave.

“And of course, there’s models. Lots of models. I’m talkin’ five girls for every man there, you feel me?”

“Uh huh.” Another drag.

“Anyway, they think they’ve signed up for an easy gig, right? They think they’re just there to get dolled up all pretty and sip champagne, but oh no.”

The fire gleamed in the reflection of Christian’s eyes, and he still didn’t seem to notice that Magnus was only passively paying attention.

“Halfway through, the servers roll out this table that’s lined with covered plates and bowls of the most disgusting things you can think of. I’m talkin’ live spiders, leeches, donkey blood, spoiled milk, roadkill, that kinda shit. And each dish had a price in front of it.” Christian’s face broke into a jagged grin. “If any of the models wanted the money, they’d have to eat something on that table.”

With Magnus being unable to respond, the smoking room became silent. Even the crackling of the fire sounded cold and frigid.

“I’ll tell you, Mags,” Christian continued. “There is nothing like watching a perfect woman debase herself, just for a measly amount of money. I watched the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen eat a baby bird for $300. I mean, $300? That’s how much I make every  _ minute _ .”

Even though Christian was on the other side of the room, Magnus still felt like he was crowding in on him, trapping him where he was sitting.

“It’s the look on their faces that I like the most. It’s that same look I see in the business world, or while hunting.” He took a sip of his brandy. “You see, Magnus, to me the best part of hunting isn’t the moment you shoot your target. It’s the moment right before you pull the trigger, when you corner it, when it knows that you’ve won - and the fight leaves its eyes.”

“Uh…” Magnus’ voice was small as the cigarette shook in his hand. He cleared his throat and tried to recompose himself. “That’s cool.”

“What do you think you would do, Magnus?”

The question felt so simple, so straightforward, but it still caught Magnus off guard.

“I mean…” he cleared his throat again, trying to get a hold of his trembling voice. “As far as breaking vegetarian streaks goes, this sounds way more my style than trying a hamburger, or something. Like, fuck it. I’d eat a bug, why not? We’re probably swallowing bugs all the time in our sleep anyw-”

“That’s not what I meant, Magnus.” Christian stood up “I mean, what would it take for the fight to leave your eyes?”

“I, uh,” Magnus twisted the cigarette around between his fingers. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Christian grinned,

“Something to think about.”

“Yeah,” Magnus nodded and put out his cigarette, even though there was still quite a bit of it left, and stood up. “Well! Great talk. I’m gonna go.”

He was just about to rush out of the room, when Christian called after him.

“Charles will understand.”

Magnus stopped, but only for a second, before leaving.

…

Huh. Well  _ that _ certainly was an interaction.

Magnus walked through the halls of the Offdensen estate in a daze, still not sure how to interpret the previous events. He was a bit jumpy, but not afraid in the same way his father would make him feel. His instincts weren’t telling him to run to safety, rather he wanted to focus on how absurd this all was. There was no doubt about it that after this little vacation was over, he was going to find any excuse to recount this weird story.

More than anything, his instincts were telling him to find Charles. He hoped that he could help provide some context and clarity to the situation, although Magnus had no idea how he was supposed to introduce this topic. They only just started sharing the details of their families with each other. Was Magnus supposed to just walk up to him like, “Hey, buddy. Don’t freak out, but I think your brother might be a demon.”.

He kept wandering through the house. Fortunately he didn’t see any of the other family members; he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone who wasn’t Charles. 

Eventually, he heard Charles’ voice coming out of another room, but it was so quiet and faint that Magnus couldn’t make out what he was saying.

The door was opened just a crack. Magnus crept forward and stood against the wall next to the door so he could listen in.

“Of course you have A’s,” the voice of Charles’ step-father. “You’ve only enrolled in three advanced courses.”

“You can always do more, Charles,” the voice of his mother. “This doesn’t impress me.”

There was a rustling of papers.

“Let’s talk about your LSAT prep.” His step-father said pointedly. “Because I’m very disappointed.”

No response from Charles.

“This is your most recent score. Let me ask you, if you were in the admissions department of a law school and you saw this score on the application, would you accept this student?”

“No.”

“No…?

“No, sir.”

“Exactly. Your mother and I are paying for your classes, so if you’re not going to take this seriously, I see no reason why we should keep supporting you.”

“I promise, I am taking this seriously. I’ve been studying-”

“Have you?” His mother asked. “Because you’ve been here for a week and I’ve only seen you open your books once. You remember how hard Charlotte was working to get into medical school, right? You should ask her for help so you don’t keep falling behind.”

“I will, thank you.”

At the sound of a chair being pushed, Magnus moved away from the door and hurried to the other end of the hallway.

Charles left the room with his head hung low. He took a deep breath and sagged his shoulders.

“Hey, Charles.” Magnus walked over to him, pretending that he hadn’t been standing there the entire time. “I’ve been looking for you. Can I talk to you about something?”

Charles stared forward for a moment, then slowly moved his head to look back at Magnus. That mask he’d been constructing for himself throughout the entire visit was still on his face, but there were glimpses of the real Charles breaking through and Magnus couldn’t avoid noticing how pained he looked.

However, this look quickly faded and Charles returned to business as usual.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Well I, uh,” He shifted back and forth on his heels. “I talked to your brother.”

Charles looked at him strangely,

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Magnus hesitated. Charles was already going through so much, he didn’t want to add this on top of everything else. Maybe when they were both back in the apartment, this could be a funny story he could share with him.

“He’s, uh, a pretty cool guy.” He shrugged.

Charles nodded slowly, clearly skeptical.

“Okay...is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yeah, well, I mean he keeps a lot of hunting trophies. That was pretty weird.”

“He does, right.” Charles frowned. “If that ever makes you uncomfortable-”

Magnus waved his hand,

“It’s not a big deal. You’ve met me, right? It’s impossible for me to feel uncomfortable. Usually  _ I’m _ the one making other people uncomfortable. So, you don’t have to worry about me being uncomfortable in this house.”

Charles narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, you’re acting weird.”

“See? Told you, I’m usually the one making other people uncomfortable.” He patted Charles on the back. “Anyway, what about you? How have you been doing?”

“I’m, uh, I’m fine.” He frowned. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

“Any of what?”

Part of Magnus felt guilty for lying to Charles so much, but he did seem to relax a bit, so it seemed worth it.

“Hey, um, thank you for being here.” Charles shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “It makes things easier.”

Magnus smiled,

“No problem, buddy.”

…

They relocated to the living room where Claudette and Chloe were already seated. Charles got his LSAT prep books out the moment he sat down, so Magnus decided to follow his example and tried to get a headstart on next semester’s reading list. And for a moment, everything felt normal. He only hoped Charles was feeling the same.

“Hey,” Magnus asked quietly so he wouldn’t pull Charles out of his studies too abruptly. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Charles lifted his head from his book,

“There’s one down that hall. Just take the first left and it’s the one immediately on the right.”

Magnus couldn’t imagine living in a house where he had to ask for directions like that to get around, but he thanked him and set his books down on the coffee table.

It didn’t take long for him to get turned around. After only a few seconds, every hallway started to look the same. He’d been in this house for almost a full day, and it felt like there were entire wings he didn’t know existed.

Okay, first door on the right. Magnus opened the first door that felt correct, and it didn’t open to a bathroom.

Instead, he found himself staring at one of the bedrooms. He knew it had to be occupied, but everything was so clean and put-together that it looked like a model hotel room. The sheets were smooth and perfectly tucked in over the king size mattress. The pillows didn’t even have any dents from someone’s head lying on them.

“Hello?” Magnus called as he slowly stepped into the room. It made sense that a nice bedroom like this would come with its own bathroom. That’s probably what the door on the other side of the room was.

When there was no response, Magnus shrugged and made his way to the door.

Good news: he found the bathroom.

Bad news, well...

Christian was standing hunched over the counter. At the sound of Magnus opening the door, he jumped back, sending a small mirror clattering to the tiled floor in an explosion of white powder.

“Motherfucker!” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and stared up at Magnus through his furrowed brows.

“Sorry,” Magnus’ hand clenched around the doorknob. “I can replace it! My guy’s back west, but he probably knows another guy-”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ crumbs! Close the door.”

Magnus stilled,

“Uh, what?”

“Close the fucking door!”

_ Yeah, not happening _ . But Christian reached forward and pushed the door shut before Magnus had a chance to leave.

“Listen, you don’t have to worry about me telling your folks,” Magnus held his hands up as his back hit the surface of the door. “I’m not like that, okay?”

“Calm down. I just wanted to chat.”

“Then can we chat somewhere other than the bathroom? And maybe someplace that  _ doesn’t _ have a pile of cocaine on the floor?”

“Why? You nervous?” He snickered. “Figured you and Charlie would know all about this.”

Magnus felt his body freeze,

“Uh,” His heart rate was rising, but he had to play it cool. He had no way of knowing for certain what Christian was getting at. “What do you mean?”

Christian barely seemed to register his words.

“I mean, it’s one thing if Charles wants to fuck up his own life, but he doesn’t have to bring the rest of the family name down with him.”

His efforts to remain cool were chipping away as he could feel a long-dormant rage threatening to spill over.

“How the hell is Charles bringing down your family name? Most families could only  _ dream _ of having someone like Charles as one of them. The guy’s a genius!”

Christian scoffed,

“If he’s a genius, why would he bring someone like you into the house?” He eyed him critically.

Magnus felt something flash in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to grab Christian by the back of his moussed-up hair and slam his smug face against the bathroom counter, but he figured he wouldn’t have an easy time explaining that to the rest of the Offdensen clan.

So instead, he forced himself to keep his voice steady,

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you’re clearly not a good influence on him, especially if he insisted this much on you coming over.” He folded his arms and shrugged, blissfully unaware that Magnus was still thinking about bludgeoning his face in. “Not exactly something he should do if he wants to get back on mom and dad’s good side.”

Magnus felt his mouth go dry and his fists begin to tremble when he realized his worst suspicions were unfolding before him. Even though Christian was no longer forcing the door shut with his hand, he still found himself unable to leave.

“Honestly,” Christian continued, his voice interrupted by a few dry laughs. “After mom and dad found out, I’m surprised they let him back here at all. I know I wouldn’t if he were my child-”

Magnus couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hand against the counter, the sound causing Christian to shut up and stare at him, looking actually stunned.

“If I were a parent, I’d rather have a gay child than a child who ends up like you.” He spat through his teeth. “Charles did nothing wrong, and I won’t let you use this one aspect of his life to define him.”

For a second, Christian actually looked confused.

“That’s, uh, not what I was talking about, man.”

Magnus went cold, and he felt his body tense up with shame,

“Wait, what were you talking about?”

“I was talking about how Charlie didn’t get accepted into the ivy league school he applied to, so now he has to go to a public college.” Christian laughed. “But your thing is so much better! You know, I always suspected-!”

“Don’t!” Magnus practically shouted. “This is none of your business!”

“Funny thing, I always wondered why he never had a girlfriend in high school. Thought it was just because he was an awkward loser, but-” His face broke into a grin. “Wow, mom and dad  _ definitely _ won’t like that if they found out.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He had to resist the urge to grab his collar.

“Or what?” He mused. “They’ll take my word over his, and definitely over yours.”

“Please.” His voice was shaking. He hated it. “Don’t take this from Charles.”

“Sorry, man. Unlike Charlie, I just can’t lie to my parents.” He laughed. “Unless you have a valid reason.”

“How about it's a fucked up thing to do to someone?”

“Hmm.” Christian frowned. “If I made all decisions based on that, I’d get nowhere in my line of work.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes,

“What do you want?”

Christian mused over the question, a smug smile forming on his cocaine-dusted lips.

“Remember what I asked you earlier? In the smoking room?”

“About modeling?”

“No, dumb shit.” He grimaced. “I mean, what would it take for the fight to leave your eyes? What would you do to keep Charles’ little secret?”

Magnus felt his mouth go dry,

“I don’t have any money, if that’s what you want.”

“I can tell, judging by...well,  _ everything  _ about you.” He laughed. “Well, if you care about this that much, you better do  _ exactly _ what I say.”

Magnus stared at Christian, debating his options. Until he came back with nothing and he felt his shoulders sag in defeat. 

Christian smiled,

“ _ That.  _ That’s the look I love to see.” He patted him on the upper arm, causing him to flinch. “You can start by cleaning this up.”

Magnus stared at the pile of cocaine on the floor,

“Should I use a pushbroom, or-”

The air was forced out of Magnus’ lungs as he was suddenly knocked to the floor, stumbling chest-first into the powder.

Christian laughed as he made a point of stepping over Magnus to leave.

“Happy New Year, Mags.”

Magnus waited until the door slammed shut before he began scooping the cocaine into a more manageable pile. He held his breath so he wouldn’t accidentally inhale any of it, even though it was very tempting to take a full hit. Even though he liked the feeling of being on cocaine, he didn’t like the person he became. He somehow became even more arrogant and obnoxious, and this situation was too delicate to risk it. He knew it wouldn’t take much for him to ignore his better conscience and throw Christian out of a window.

He ended up using a magazine to scoop the cocaine up and dump it into the toilet. It felt like a shame to get rid of it. Back in high school, that amount of coke would have seriously helped him with the rent. Apparently Christian was too good to just snort it off the floor before he left. Amateur coke head…

After every speck of cocaine was cleaned off of the floor counter, and his clothes, Magnus finally stepped out of the bathroom. He looked around carefully to make sure Christian wasn’t around before he felt comfortable leaving.

Okay so Christian wasn’t just a demon, he was the devil himself. And not in a cool way. How was he even supposed to face Charles after this? He felt a sickening pang in his stomach when he realized that he essentially outed Charles to his brother. He knew what that felt like. Even if it was by accident, if Charles never forgave him, he’d understand.

Magnus crept back into the living room. The only people left were Claudette, who was sitting on the couch with a book in her hands, and Chloe, who was sitting in front of her on the floor, playing with some plastic dolls (Barbies?). Neither Charles nor Christian were in sight, so Magnus felt a bit relieved.

“Hey, uh,” He felt his nerves spike back up when they both looked at him. “Where is everyone?”

“Smoking room.” Claudette turned her attention back to her book. “They like to get together and talk about current events after dinner.”

Shit, and Magnus thought his family traditions were a bummer.

“You mind if I stay out here?”

Claudette shrugged,

“Free country. You can do what you want.”

Magnus stepped further into the living room until he could feel the warmth of the fireplace again. If anything, he was relieved at the prospect that Charles had  _ one _ sibling who was normal.

He glanced at the book Claudette was reading and realized that it was by Ayn Rand.

Hm. Maybe not.

He decided to sit across from Chloe on the floor, who was still staring at him. The two fashion dolls, one with cotton candy-like fluffy pink hair and the other with wild purple hair, were frozen in her hands.

“Your hair’s pretty.”

“Oh,” He laughed shakily, the pent-up nerves from before finally escaping. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You look like Stormer.”

“Uh, is that a friend of yours?”

“Do you watch  _ Jem and the Holograms? _ ”

“No, I, uh, don’t think so.”

Chloe set her dolls down and left. At first, Magnus was concerned that he said something to upset her, but then she returned with a tupperware container of similarly-dressed fashion dolls with neon hair colors, which she upturned onto the rug. She picked out one doll, a woman with frizzy blue hair with a neon green keytar around hanging from her shoulder.

“This one is Stormer.” She handed the doll to Magnus so he could take a closer look.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see the resemblance.” He couldn’t. He was pretty sure that, even on its worst days, his hair never looked this unkempt. “She’s a musician?”

Chloe nodded, with a genuine look of enthusiasm that Magnus hadn’t seen from her (or anyone else in the Offdensen house).

“Yes! She’s in the Misfits.”

Magnus had to do a double take.

“Wait, the Misfits?”

“Yeah, they’re the bad guys, but I like them.”

“No, I mean…” He frowned. “The Misfits have a doll line?”

“It’s a show too.” She picked up the doll with pink hair. “This one is Jem, she’s the singer. Not for the Misfits - for The Holograms. Her real name is Jerrica. I have her doll too…”

“Honey,” Claudette spoke up from the couch. “Magnus doesn’t want to hear this.”

Chloe deflated a bit, but Magnus shook his head.

“No, I want to hear.” If anything, he was curious to see how the Misfits fit in with all this. “Which one’s your favorite?”

She brightened back up and she picked up a doll with straight blue hair cut into a blunt bob.

“This is Aja, she plays the guitar.”

“Awesome, I play guitar too.”

Chloe gasped,

“Really? Are you good? Do you play in a band? Are you famous?”

“Uh…” Magnus tried to figure out how to navigate the questions. “Yes, no, and I hope not.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to be famous?”

“Nah, it seems too stressful. I don’t want all that attention.” He picked up another doll, this one with neon green hair and striking purple eye makeup. “Which one’s this?”

“That’s Pizzazz. She’s also in the Misfits.”

Okay, this was getting weird.

“That’s interesting,” He set the doll back down. “I like the Misfits.”

Chloe tilted her head to the side.

“Really?”

“Yeah, they basically got me through high school.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

Chloe seemed to consider it for a moment,

“I guess they’re cool. They’re funny.”

Hm, not exactly the word Magnus would have used, but sure.

From another room, a phone started ringing. Claudette tossed her book onto the coffee table and stood up.

“I think that’s my client.” She looked down at him. “Magnus, you mind watching her?”

“Oh, uh…”

He didn’t have time to answer before Claudette was running towards the phone, muttering something about “fuckin’ time zones…”, leaving him alone with Chloe.

“So…” He looked around the room, trying to fill the silence. “You listen to a lot of punk rock?”

Chloe shook her head.

“No, my mom won’t let me.”

“Oh.” Shit, that was the perfect environment to start listening to it. “If you want, I could let you borrow some of my cassettes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “Why not? I’ll have to see what I have. You’re not old enough to go to gigs, so this is the best way to get introduced to the scene. Let’s see...if you like the Misfits-”

“Can I play with your hair?”

“Uh…” Magnus suddenly lost his train of thought. “Sure, I guess.”

Chloe dug through the pile of dolls until she came up with a pink box, inside of which were a bunch of colorful barrettes, scrunchies, and some tiny plastic brushes that probably came with the dolls.

Magnus continued rambling as Chloe tried to maneuver one of the clips through his hair.

“Personally, I found that getting into psychedelic music from the 60s is what helped me ease into punk. My dad had a Crazy World of Arthur Brown record that I listened to a lot growing up. I think you’d like them. It’s very theatrical, so-”

Magnus stopped when she tried to comb his hair with one of those plastic brushes and he immediately pulled his head away.

“Hey, don’t brush it.”

“Why not?”

“Unless you also have some deep conditioner on you, you can’t just brush my hair type like that.”

Chloe frowned, then set down the brush and returned to the clips and scrunchies. Magnus was certain he looked ridiculous, but he was finally given an opportunity to ramble about music after who knows how long, so he was fine with it.

“Honestly, I don’t know where I’d start with introducing you to the scene. Should I go with the staples of the movement, or with what was personally meaningful to me? Obviously, you should listen to the Ramones. They weren’t the first, but they’re pretty popular and a good introduction if you’re just getting started. But if you already like the Misfits-”

Magnus was interrupted by a door slamming. He turned around and a sense of panic washed through him when he saw Charles storming out of the smoking room, practically running towards the front door.

“I…” His voice faltered as he turned back to Chloe, his voice hurried. “But it sounds like you prefer bands with female leads, so you should listen to X-Ray Spex.”

He could only think about Charles, as he pulled the accessories out of his hair.

“Hey,” Chloe protested. “Why are you taking those out?”

“Trust me, if I don’t take them out now, they’ll be lost forever.” He stood up, ready to chase Charles to the door, but he stopped and looked back at Chloe.

“I need to go, I’m sorry. Go find your mom.”

Chloe pouted, then nodded before gathering her toys back up.

Magnus turned on his heels and ran towards the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. Even with the jacket, the cold night air was something he couldn’t have prepared for. But still, he didn’t stop as he broke into a sprint after Charles.

“Charles!” The inside of his throat stung from the cold. “Are you alright?”

Charles stopped outside of his car and turned to face him, his nose and the area around his eyes were red, but Magnus couldn’t tell if that was from the cold or not.

Magnus stopped running as well.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Charles bowed his head, then gestured for Magnus to get into the car with him.

Magnus felt his anxiety pang into his chest, but he got into the passenger’s seat.

Without a word, Charles pulled out of the driveway and soon they were driving down the road. Magnus let out a sigh of relief. If anything, it was nice to finally get out of that house.

“Is, uh,” He tried to break the silence. “Is everything okay?”

Charles didn’t respond and started to drive faster. A  _ lot  _ faster. Soon they were going fast enough that Magnus felt the force push him back against the seat. The roaring of the winds around him drowned out all possible sounds as the lit-up houses blazed past them in multi-colored neon blurs.

Normally, Magnus would have jumped at the opportunity to go on a joy ride with some of his friends, but they weren’t blasting music. They weren’t hollering out of the open windows. They weren’t smashing people’s mailboxes or trying to race against someone who was unfortunate enough to drive next to them. And, more importantly, this was  _ Charles _ .

“Charles?” Magnus’ voice jumped when he remembered how slick the roads got in the winter. “Are you okay?”

Again, Charles was silent. His eyes were focused on the road with scary intensity as he only started to go faster.

“Come on, man. You’re freaking me out.” He gripped the side of the car door for support. “Please, just talk to me.”

Nothing. Just the roar of the engine between them.

“Please, Charlie. Just talk to me.” Magnus felt like he had to scream over the winds. “Please just slow down and talk to me!”

Charles glanced at him through the corner of his eye, his expression still guarded, and Magnus felt his heart lurch forward in his chest.

And that was before Charles slammed on the brakes.


	16. Chapter 16

It took a while for Magnus to catch his breath and for the dull pain from lurching against the seatbelt to fade. His ribs ached, his stomach was tying itself into knots, and his heart was pounding so hard in his ears that it nearly drowned out the screeching tires.

Charles was still clutching the steering wheel with a death grip and he was also breathing hard as he stared forward with an expression Magnus had never seen on his face before. Something unhinged, lost, and afraid.

“What the fuck, Charles?!” Magnus dropped all pretenses. “You could have killed us!”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the top of the steering wheel. His head was buried between his arms, his hands clawing through his hair. When his shoulders started shaking, Magnus suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for yelling.

“Hey…” He didn’t know if he wanted to be touched or not, so Magnus let his hand hover over his quaking back. “You can talk to me, okay? What’s going on?”

Charles muttered something, but Magnus couldn’t hear anything other than the painful hitch of his voice.

“Sorry, uh, didn’t catch that.”

Charles sat back up, the redness around his eyes and nose were now more pronounced than ever. He continued staring forward, blinking away the tears that were rapidly forming in his eyes.

“I…” He choked out, prolonging the single sound with his voice, which was shaking in disbelief. “I came out.”

With that, Charles couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as he clung to the steering wheel again, his dry sobs muffled and violent.

Magnus sat back against the car door and watched, stunned. He hated just watching him, but the sight of seeing Charles like this was so surreal that he needed to take a moment to process it.

“I wasn’t ready,” He slammed his fist against the dashboard. “I had a  _ plan!” _

“Oh shit, Charlie…” Magnus placed his hand on his back. 

Charles tensed up for a moment, but didn’t respond beyond that.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Magnus’ breath caught in his throat. “I would have stopped your brother if I knew how, but-”

Charles looked up, the confusion on his face replacing whatever expression he was showing before.

“What about Christian?”

“I-” He cleared his throat, feeling like the walls of the car were closing in on him. “I just thought he would have done it.”

“Christian didn’t know that I’m gay.” Charles narrowed his eyes. “ _ Magnus _ .”

“Charles, I am so sorry.” Magnus didn’t waste any time blurting out an apology. “He cornered me and I thought he knew and-”

“Stop.” Charles sat up to grip the steering wheel, his tone deadly and whatever vulnerability he was showing before was sealing back up again. “I can’t believe you would do that to me.”

“Please, just let me explain.”

Charles glanced at him and raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

Magnus let everything spill about his interactions with Christian in the smoking room and later in the bathroom. Part of him worried that he somehow imagined these moments and they weren’t in character for his brother at all, and Charles would think he was insane. Or perhaps, that was the best case scenario. Because the idea of Charles having to grow up with this guy, being practically raised by him...no. He didn’t want that for him. Charles didn’t deserve that.

When he was done recounting, Charles let out a shaky breath, sagging back against the carseat.

“What the fuck, Christian?” He muttered.

“I mean,” Magnus tried to backtrack. “Some of the stuff probably wasn’t as bad as I described.”

Charles shook his head,

“No, Christian was always like that.” He sighed. “He likes having power over people.”

“Yeah, that’s the impression I got.” Magnus twisted his hands in his lap, not sure how to approach the subject. “So if he didn’t…”

Charles bowed his head.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Magnus clarified. “Just, you know, in case you wanted to talk. I’m here for you.”

Charles took a deep breath,

“We were discussing politics and current events, which we’ve done plenty of times, but the topic of homosexuality and healthcare came up.” He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “And my mom started accusing me of sounding too emotional in my arguments. Then, everyone became more focused on  _ that _ . Christian asked me why I care so much, so I tried to explain that I care because it’s a serious issue. My step-father accused me of being too subjective, and that if I were truly interested in becoming a lawyer, I should be able to argue about topics that don’t affect me without my emotions getting in the way. To which I blurted out ‘what if it  _ does _ affect me?’ and…”

He held his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t stop it. Even though I had a plan since high school for how I wanted to do this, I still couldn’t stop it.”

Magnus placed his hand back on his shoulder. “Do you at least feel any relief at all?”

Charles shook his head,

“No. At least, not now. I just feel angry.” He reached forward to clutch the steering wheel again. “They didn’t even reject me in the way I expected. My step-father accused me of ‘making a claim without having any research to back it up’. I just wanted to scream that I  _ do _ have research. Research called ‘35% of the fencing team’!”

“He sounds like the worst, I’m sorry, man.” Magnus had to pause. “Wait, 35%?”

Charles shrugged,

“A lot of people use college as a time to experiment, I guess.”

“Shit. Good job, buddy. You really have to excel at everything, huh?”

To Magnus’ great relief, Charles actually laughed.

“I wouldn’t call 35% ‘excelling’, but thanks.” He sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

“It’s what I’m here for. You’re going through a lot right now, and honestly I’d be more concerned if you  _ didn’t _ have a strong reaction.”

“Okay,” Charles nodded, his voice quiet and distant. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Magnus glanced out the window, remembering that they were still stopped in the center of the road. “What do you feel like doing now?”

Charles sighed waringly,

“I don’t know. I’m not ready to go back to the house.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“If you want, we could go back and torch the place.”

Charles snorted,

“You can’t burn the house. It’s a historical building.”

“So was the Library of Alexandria, but it still went up all the same.”

Charles smiled and rolled his eyes,

“Would you be okay if I just drove around?” He asked. “I...I just need to clear my head.”

“Of course. I’m not itching to go back either.” He paused. “Just...try to stay around the speed limit.”

Charles laughed again,

“Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

To Magnus’ relief, Charles continued driving at a much more reasonable pace. Even though the Snakes N’ Barrels tape he had on sounded like it would warrant much faster speeds. They didn’t talk. Charles just focused on driving while Magnus stared out the window, watching the old, snow-capped buildings zip past them.

Despite everything, it was actually nice. Most of the time, it was just the two of them on the road, not going anywhere but still moving forward. Even the fast and loud music served as pleasant atmospheric background noise. It seemed to be calming Charles down as well. There was so much uncertainty in the air, for both of them, but Magnus actually felt safe in that moment. The way Charles was carefully maneuvering down the winding roads, absentmindedly humming along with some of the songs as the lights from the city reflected against his glasses. Even though Magnus was visiting the city for the first time, he found that he was more interested in watching Charles.

When they finally reached the end of the end of the Snakes N’ Barrels tape, Charles switched to the radio. Magnus felt a pang in his chest. The songs were different and the advertisements were specific to the region, but it still reminded him of being a kid, sitting in the back of the car and watching the streetlamps pass as one of his parents would drive him around at night. He had hazy memories of falling asleep in the back seat, and waking up to being carried inside the house. It was one of the few moments in his childhood where he genuinely felt cared for, and he was experiencing that same feeling now. He could only hope that Charles was feeling the same.

The deejay’s voice faded out, transitioning to  _ Fire _ by the Pointer Sisters, and Magnus found himself groaning out of instinct.

“Out of all the songs they could have played right now…” Charles muttered under his breath.

“I know, right? I’m not a fan either.”

Charles shook his head.

“No, I like the song. It’s just…” He laughed nervously, ducking his head a bit. “Never mind, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“You know you have to tell me now, right?”

Charles seemed to ponder it for a moment, then he sighed in defeat,

“Before today, the only time I ever cried in my car was because of this song.”

“Oh,” That certainly caught Magnus off guard. “Is it because the lyrics are really pushy and uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s-” Charles shook his head, cutting himself off. “It’s really silly. I haven’t told anyone this.”

“You can tell me, if you want. I’ll try not to judge too hard.”

Charles was still focusing on the road, but he cracked a small smile.

“I was, um, driving home from high school. It was also the day I came to terms with the fact that I’m gay. As I drove home, I was coming up with my plan. I wasn’t going to come out to anyone. I could keep it a secret - no one would have to know. I thought I had everything sorted out, but then this song came on the radio.”

He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

“It could have been any love song, I guess, but it wasn’t until that moment when I realized how lonely my life was going to be. I was prepared to be isolated by my family - that’s how I felt already. But to feel isolated by culture? By music?” His voice sounded pained. “It made me realize how many people take this sort of thing for granted. Because there have to be thousands of songs about love on the radio, and none of them will ever try to relate to me.”

“Shit…” Magnus didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“It sounds stupid, I know.”

Magnus shook his head,

“No, I know how you feel. I had the same thoughts when I was coming to terms with my own situation.”

“But you’re, uh…” Charles faltered for the right words. “Aren’t you still attracted to women?”

“Yes, but that’s not the whole story.”

“I’m sorry.” Charles slumped his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to imply that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Magnus waved his hand. “But did you at least know any other gay or queer people before college? I found that having that community was very helpful.”

Charles shook his head,

“As far as I was concerned, it was just me. If I was caught interacting with anyone who was obviously part of that, uh, scene, it would have gotten back to my parents, and…”

“Yeah, no that makes sense.” Magnus leaned back against the seat. “When we go back home, I’m taking you gay bar hopping. That’s a promise.”

Charles laughed,

“I know there’s one establishment around here. But I’ve, ah, never been.”

“You wanna go now? Magnus asked. “Could be fun.”

Charles briefly glanced down at his watch.

“It’s almost midnight. Do you really want to spend new year’s at a place like that?”

“You got a better place in mind?”

Charles seemed to think for a moment, then turned onto a different road.

“Okay.”

After some more careful driving, Charles parked near a rather unassuming-looking building, careful to be out of sight from the road. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“What are you worried about?”

“Are you kidding me? There are a plethora of things to be worried about.”

Magnus suddenly felt guilty for pushing him into this.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I liked just driving around.”

Charles shook his head,

“No. I want to do this.” He moved to turn off the engine, then stopped. “I’m still not old enough to drink.”

“When do you turn twenty one?”

“Almost a full calendar year from now.”

“Oh right, you’re a capricorn.”

“Again with you focusing on the strangest details of whatever I tell you…”

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” Magnus shrugged. “Honestly, I was planning on you being my ride.”

“But will I even be able to get in?”

“Sure. I’ve snuck into much rowdier places when I was even younger.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Charles sighed. “Let’s just go. I at least want to see what it’s like.”

The inside of the bar was pretty packed, considering it was new year’s eve and all. Charles stuck by Magnus’ side the entire time as they navigated through the crowds. It was different compared to other bars Magnus had been to in the past. Honestly, it felt like the ideal first gay bar experience for Charles. There were no flashing lights, no blaring music. Just some classy atmospheric lighting and some oldies playing on the jukebox. The main demographic seemed to skew older, with more grizzled sailor types. Not that Magnus was complaining - he could definitely see the appeal. But the nautical theme was a bit cheesy, in his opinion.

Magnus found a relatively secluded spot in a corner and allowed for Charles to take a breather.

“How do you feel?”

Charles shrugged, but at least he seemed to be relaxing.

“This is nice, I guess.” He picked at his sleeves. “But I probably wouldn’t be here if you weren’t there with me.”

“But you’re feeling better, at least?”

He nodded,

“Yeah, I think I am. Thank you for getting me out of that house.”

“Anytime. I was itching to get out of there too.” Magnus smiled and clapped Charles on the shoulder. “I’m heading to the bar. You want me to get you anything?”

“I’m driving.”

“Doesn’t have to be alcoholic. You want a glass of water?”

Charles thought for a moment, then nodded.

“That sounds nice, thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Try not to break too many hearts while I’m gone.”

Magnus stood at the bar for a moment, watching the tv counting down to midnight. Still fifteen minutes left to go. After the day he just had, Magnus was tempted to order something stronger, but he didn’t want to be totally inebriated around Charles. At least not tonight.

He returned to Charles with a glass of water in one hand and a scotch and soda in the other.

“Thank you.” Charles took the water in his hands and took a sip.

“Anyone try to make a pass at you?”

“A few.” He waved his hand dismissively. “No one my type.”

“I see.” Magnus couldn’t identify the feeling in his chest. “What  _ is _ your type? Besides 35% of the fencing team?”

Charles laughed,

“I don’t know. I just think I’ll know it when I see it.” He took another drink of water. “What, uh, what about you?”

“The other 65% of the fencing team.”

Charles elbowed Magnus in the side,

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Sorry you have to rein the new year in with me.”

Charles shook his head.

“Honestly, I don’t know why we didn’t do this from the beginning.”

“At least this shitty year will soon be behind us, right?”

“Hm,” Charles frowned. “It’s not like everything is going to be fixed because the calendar shifted over. I still made a stupid mistake tonight.”

“You did nothing wrong, okay? Everyone else around you is just being an asshole.” He held up his glass to Charles’. “To spending next winter break by ourselves?”

Charles laughed and clinked his glass against his.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They both took sips from their glass, Magnus’ considerably longer than Charles’.

“We’ll only be a semester away from graduation by then.” Charles noted, his voice wistful.

“You will, at least.”

Charles rolled his eyes,

“You’re going to graduate, Magnus.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course. I see how hard you’ve been working.”

Magnus took another drink.

“I don’t really care what happens. As long as we’re still able to do this.”

“You really should care about graduating.” Charles paused. “But I like this too.”

Charles was standing very close to him, Magnus suddenly noticed. His upper arm was barely brushing against his, but it still sent shocks up his spine.

People on the television were starting to count down, and soon everyone in the bar joined in.

_ Ten! _

_ Nine! _

_ Eight! _

Magnus also noticed that the people around him were also starting to couple up throughout the bar. 

Charles was peacefully staring down into his water.

_ Seven! _

_ Six! _

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he touched Charles’ shoulder.

_ Five! _

_ Four! _

Charles looked back up at him, like he had countless times before. But his hazel eyes seemed deeper, Magnus couldn’t place it.

_ Three! _

Was it the alcohol? Was it the roaring of the crowds? Was it just Charles himself?

_ Two! _

Magnus pulled Charles close and kissed him on the lips.

_ One. _

What struck Magnus first was how easy kissing Charles was - like it was something he always knew how to do. In that moment, nothing else mattered but him. Whenever he felt like his life was adrift, Charles was always there to help him feel grounded. He felt all of that appreciation coming through in the kiss. Magnus almost sobbed against his lips as he clung to him, his fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket. Everything that they had gone through together made Magnus want nothing more than to be as close to Charles as possible. He wasn’t losing him again.

Magnus pulled back and opened his eyes.

Charles was staring back at him - startled.

Magnus’ first sight of 1986.

“I…” Charles coughed and turned his head away. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I hope I wasn’t giving you any mixed signals. But I…”

Magnus felt a lump form in his throat. All of the comfort and security he was previously basking in were melting away.

“N-no, I’m sorry.” Magnus averted his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “Everyone else was doing it and I was just caught up in the moment. The booze didn’t help.”

Magnus’ first lies of 1986.

“We should, um,” Charles pushed his glasses up, still looking away. “Maybe we should go.”

He nodded, and followed Charles out of the bar.

Magnus’ first pain of 1986.

They were back in the car, Snakes N’ Barrels tape replaying from the beginning. Magnus was pressing his forehead against the cold window, wishing he could go back in time and undo that kiss. Or, more selfishly, he wished he could go back to the kiss itself and fully appreciate the peace he felt, now armed with the knowledge that it would soon be over.

Charles turned off the music.

“We’re going to have to talk about this.”

“No we don’t.”

Magnus turned the music back on, only for Charles to press stop again.

“Magnus…” Charles sighed. “You’re a really good friend.”

“Great, we’re both on the same page.”

Charles swatted Magnus’ hand away before he could resume the music.

“I just don’t want to complicate things.”

“What’s there to complicate? You don’t care, I don’t care either. It’s fine. Perfect. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Charles frowned, his eyes never moving from the road.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke carefully. “If I can’t give you what you want.”

Magnus folded his arms over his chest and kicked his feet up on the dash.

“I don’t even know what I want and you sure as hell don’t.” He shrugged. “Let’s just pretend this never happened.”

Charles seemed to hesitate, but he nodded.

When they got back to the house, Magnus couldn’t sleep. Even though the last time he slept was on the flight over, he still couldn’t.

He took the floor. Charles’ bed was big enough for both of them to have plenty of room, but he couldn’t do it. He wanted to be alone, but nowhere else in the house felt safe. The one person in his life he could depend on, and he ruined it. Things were going to be different now because of him.

Eventually the thoughts crowding in around his head began to be too much and he crept out of Charles’ room. Just for some water. The scotch and soda was not sitting right in his head.

He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet, this time being extra careful not to drop it on the floor. He filled it from the tap and swallowed it down in only a few desperate gulps.

“You’re here, good. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Magnus almost dropped the glass, but thankfully he managed to hold his grip. He set it down on the counter and turned to see Charles’ step-father standing just a few feet away from him, still dressed in a navy blue suit. Did he sleep in that, or was he not ready for bed yet? Or did he put it on specifically to confront Magnus?

“I…” There was no way he would know, but Magnus still felt like he had to be on guard. “I, uh, hope I wasn’t making too much noise.”

“I’m going to cut to the chase.” His voice was stern and unmoving. “It was inappropriate for you to impose on a family event and we are not thrilled about your influence on Charles.”

Magnus felt his throat close up and he desperately needed another drink of water, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for the glass again. The idea of drinking their water or using their dishes suddenly made him feel sick.

“I, uh…” He bowed his head. “I d-didn’t, I mean…”

“If you are speaking without knowing what you’re going to say, then you are just wasting your breath and my time.” He folded his arms. “Charles has a long way to go if he’s going to make up for his previous missteps, and I don’t appreciate the path you’re leading him down.”

When he sized him up, Magnus was fairly certain he could take Charles’ step-father in a fight, but he still found himself backing up against the counter from his words alone, his legs trembling along with his voice.

“I promise, I never intended-”

“Your  _ intentions _ don’t matter if your  _ outcomes _ tell a different story.” He narrowed his eyes at him. “When did you, or rather, when did  _ Charles _ book your return flight?”

“Um,” Magnus squirmed. “This Saturday, uh, sir.”

“I see.” He reached into his coat pocket and Magnus flinched, only to relax slightly when he pulled out a checkbook. 

Magnus watched in stunned silence as he started filling out one of the checks, then he ripped it off the pad and handed it to him.

“Would this be enough to cover a flight back to Washington?”

Magnus almost dropped the check when he saw the number that was filled in. It wasn’t just enough to return to Washington, it was enough to fly back and forth between Maine and Washington multiple times - and possibly renting a lodge in either state.

“I…” Magnus was at a loss for words. He was fairly certain he had not seen this amount of money in his entire life. “You don’t have to give this to me.”

“It’s not a gift.” He clarified. “By morning, I want you out of my house.”

The check shook in Magnus’ hands. Charles was still upstairs. He’d still have to stay in this house for the next four days. But maybe after this night, it would be best for Charles if Magnus just left.

He nodded,

“Okay.”

Magnus crept back upstairs to Charles’ room so he could gather his things. To his relief, he was still fast asleep, the ghostly blue light from the window casting over him. He had to stop and stare at him for a moment. Well, he didn’t  _ have _ to stare, but he couldn’t help it. His breathing was gentle, but his face was still twisted in stress, his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows knitted. Magnus wished he could provide him some relief, some comfort, but he was clearly not the person Charles needed for that.

Before grabbing his stuff, he dug through his bag until he found his X-Ray Spex cassette buried with the rest of his music. He left the tape on Charles’ desk along with a note that said “For Chloe”. Then he picked up his bags, cast one last look at Charles’ sleeping form, and left the room.

Magnus barely noticed the cold this time when he stepped outside. Either he was getting used to the weather, or he could no longer register it. The icy wind chilling the inside of his throat and lungs actually provided a welcome distraction from the thoughts rolling around in his head. Most of which were about Charles.

The bus driver wished him a happy new year. Magnus knew it couldn’t have been that good for either of them, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

He pressed his head against the window as the bus took him to the airport. As he watched the northeastern landscape drift past, he still couldn’t stop thinking about Charles. The city he grew up in, the city he might never be able to return to. It felt so unjust. Whenever Magnus faced hardships, he was sometimes able to convince himself that he deserved it somehow. But not Charles.

The check felt heavy in his pocket and he curled up in the seat.

This was for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to gluku-pikron for being the first one to read through this chapter and for helping me continue to develop this au further.


End file.
